An Ode To My Mom
I apologize in advance if this seems all over the place. Howdy folks! I’m going to do things a little different this time around. I’m not what most would call open, at least when it comes to being personal with others apart from immediate family I mean). But, I think one benefits from being open about certain things, or even certain people. So, here’s an ode to my mother.
When talking about mothers, the first thing that usually comes up is their nurturing natures, counteracting the harsh and callous ways of the world with unconditional love and fervent support. My mother was the personification of love and support during my childhood, and continues to be more of the same in my young adult life. I can’t remember ever feeling that she didn’t love or support me. Having that in your life is something that can’t really be articulated well (or maybe I just suck with words), but it’s something that I’ve cherished and will continue to cherish so long I can.
I’ve heard people say that their mothers are their best friends, but speaking honestly, my mother isn’t my friend. She made that clear to me when I was younger. “I’m not your friend; I’m your momma,” she’d always say. She never agreed with parents who tried to be their children’s friends, and I came to feel the same way. She’s my parent. And I don’t say that in a bad way. A parent is a role model, confidant, a protector, a nurture…You get my point. Why would I want a friend in my mother, when she’s so much more? And just because we weren’t friends didn’t mean that we didn’t have laughs because we did, and still do.
Growing up, she never let me get away with things, even if I thought I’d pulled one over on her at the time. I used to think she had eyes not just on the back of her head, but everywhere I went. I mean, how else could I explain her knowing I’d done things that she wasn’t around to witness? I thought she had a superpower! In all seriousness, I applaud my mother’s approach in rearing me and my brothers. She taught us life lessons that I live by to this day, whether it was not allowing what others think of you to determine how far you go in life, or how I should treat and respect (and not patronize or belittle) a woman, or that no matter how bad things get, they can always be worse, so you should be thankful that they aren’t.
And speaking of bad things, December of 2011, my mother was diagnosed with MS, or Multiple Sclerosis. For those unaware, MS is an autoimmune disease that wreaks havoc on one’s central nervous system. Fatigue, weakness, headaches (migraines really) and vision problems are just a small part of what she deals with daily. I don’t say this so you’ll pity me or my mother. I say this so I can proclaim that: My mother is without a doubt the strongest, most loving and observant person I know.
She still knows when I’m going through something without me saying a word; she still encourages me when I need it the most (and don’t even realize it); and she still shows me every day what a real woman is. I can’t say she’s perfect, but she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me in the short twenty-three years I’ve been alive. As Honest Abe once said, “All that I am, or hope to be, I owe to my angel mother.”
I guess what I’m getting at is, Mom, I love you!