My mom has been my best friend since the day I met her. She is a woman that I can honestly say was meant to be a mother. I have never met anyone as selfless, caring or wise as she.
When I was a child, I was shy. I was used to spending days with my mom playing in our back yard, running through the sprinkler and identifying rocks with my false, imaginative knowledge. My world consisted of her and me, me and her. So, when preschool days crept up on us, one of the only things that would help me through them was my Beanie Baby cat with a spritz of my mom's perfume.
When elementary school hit, I would often cry because of how much I missed my mom. Yes, I was that girl. Throughout both kindergarten and first grade, any part of the day that would upset me would lead me to tears about how much I missed my mom. I would, sometimes, even stir up others in the class to miss their moms and we would cry together.
One day, in first grade, I was upset that my classmate had scheduled her birthday party on the same day that mine had already been scheduled. It had been bothering me for a while. During our spelling lesson, I found myself in a fit of tears. Moments later, unannounced, my mom came into the class with new invitations, with new dates for my party. She stayed with me for the remainder of the day, sitting in our carpet circle during Spanish class.
Though I have outgrown that phase of my life, you can never outgrow your mom. I look back at all of the memories we share, both good and bad, and I can't imagine sharing those memories with anyone else.
I remember standing in my grandmother's house baffled, watching as my older cousin displayed textbook teenage behavior. Being only seven years old, I looked up at my mother and asked why he was being so mean. She replied that he was a teenager, and sometimes hormones make teenagers say and do things they don't really mean. I grabbed her hand and confidently told her that no matter what, I would never be mean to her when I was a teenager. "Yes you will," she said, "but that is okay."
Mom, as always, you were right. I am sorry for the hell I raised. I am sorry for dragging you through Hollister, even though that store always gave you a headache. I am sorry for always thinking I knew better; I know now that I never did.
Thank you for the countless rides you gave me to friends' houses. Thank you for taking care of me every time I was sick, every time I am sick. Thank you for still doing my laundry.
Thank you for always giving me your honest opinions, and for giving me a shoulder to cry on when I realized mine were wrong. Thank you for supporting me though the good and the bad. Thank you for my childhood. Thank you for my future. Thank you for being my mom.
I could go on and on, but today I got to spend the day with her. We went grocery shopping. It was amazing. I love you, mom.
