I had a beautiful childhood and that is because of my mom.
(Yeah, my dad did his part too, but today is about my mom. We’ll talk about him another time.) Halloween was so spooky and so exciting because of my mom. Have you heard the story about The Lady in Black? Ohhh, the way my mom tells it is super scary. She’ll also tell you about the one time she and my Aunt Lorren were visited by a ghost when they were alone at the house on Highland. Then she’ll give you some candy corn in a wooden basket with a smiling ghost on it and have my dad make a bonfire. Then she’ll pour a glass of wine and invite the neighbors over.
My mom infused our lives with good love. Movie night was with Hitchcock. We saw plays, read books, heard stories, told stories, and laughed. Book reports were, above all, our most important homework. So, maybe I didn’t excel at math, but my book reports got read aloud in class by my teacher. We didn’t travel far, but we visited local historic sites and she made them seem fascinating–because they had a history and had seen things long before us.
We laughed a lot. There was a lot of saracasm, one-liners, and songs. My mom didn’t talk to us like we were babies. She told us about the gossip at work and, in turn, we told her about the gossip at school.
It was reaassuring to hear my mom telling me that my brat friend was “full of crap” when I was twelve.
Our house was four females to one male (I’m including the dog because she could be bitchy, naturally), so things got loud and things got catty- doors slammed and feet pounded. We yelled. We cried. A lot. Then we’d get over it.
I’m blessed and humbled to have had the childhood I had. I’m blessed and humbled to have the mom I have. I know that moms are popular and well loved, as they should be, but I also know that even though everyone has a mom, some people aren’t lucky enough to love their moms. Some don’t know their mom, some don’t really even like their mom. I know my mom and I love my mom. A lot.
I have to give full credit to my mom for all my creative endeavors nowadays. I am a writer and a performer and a reader and an art lover. I am also proud to say that because of her, I too can really put a room together. I’m thankful for that. I’m also thankful for a woman who recently told me that she didn’t like watching cooking shows past 9pm because it “feels improper”. I’ll keep that in mind, Mom.
I’m spending my first Mothers’ Day away from my mom this year because I recently moved to Seattle.
And while I’m excited for a new adventure, I’m always missing home, always missing mom.
So, here’s to you, Mom–you and everything you instilled in me, is always with me. And Mom, don’t worry. I’m fine and I’m being careful and I’m locking my doors at night. Happy Mothers’ Day, Mamala. Love you.