From the second we take our first breath, or open our eyes for the first time; it’s the warmth of her touch and the sound of her voice that emanates implicit love.
In that moment, all that we are able to offer is naivety and our existence, yet still she holds us as if we are the sole reason for every passing heartbeat. The love of a mother is truly incredible. With each day that we grow older, that love blossoms abundantly as we slowly begin to realize that she is not just our mom, but also the greatest best friend we will ever have.
Some may say that your mother shouldn’t be your ‘best friend’. The boundary that is contemplated arrises from the idea of oversharing or breaking down emotional walls that are, by societal norms, supposed to be there. I would argue that this is not at all relevant to the purpose of a best friend. The term isn't simply a way of describing someone with whom you share all of your secrets (this is not to say that this is not a quality of a best friend), but rather its the feeling you get when you know you will always be someone’s first choice. It's the utter certainty that your unconditional love is reciprocated, and that you’re believed in even when you cannot believe in yourself. Moms are all of this, and so much more.
Attending every game, concert, competition or the like, she is my biggest fan. It has never stopped at performing the usual tasks a mother would complete; like composing the perfect pregame meal or sitting front row at whatever event. She also does the ‘best friend’ job of celebrating each and every successes with me in any way of my choosing. In being my leading supporter she is given the responsibility of being wholeheartedly accepting, which innately, she has always been without fail. Whether the choice was made to retire a seventh grade instrument or establish skydiving as a favorite pastime, conversations with mom were known to be judgment-free.
Having support is vital, however, it is the adequately brutal honesty that is so greatly appreciated. She is my most constructive critic, and I thank her for that. Without feedback we would never learn to use our mistakes as caveats for the future. This leads us to be more judicial with our actions. While seemingly this all would be the expected responsibility of a mom, I find that parents are more equitable in guarding your feelings, whereas a best friend is faultlessly authentic. For instance, a mother might tell her child that his clarinet music sounds as though the heavens are singing above, whereas in reality it more closely resembles a nail scratching a chalkboard. Moms though, can be both. She has the ability to be fully realistic and straightforward such as in recounting my clarinet playing as heinous, while being in full support of my continuation to rehearse.
She is so undeniably selfless. Maybe, as a mom should be. In going above and beyond that, though, she makes each day a shared experience with my preferences consistently prioritized. For example, our taste in music regularly differs (with some fortuitous overlaps), yet it is invariably me with the auxiliary chord in hand and mom swaying ever so slightly to the beat in an effort to find some enjoyment from whatever new-generation music happens to be playing. Clearly, her altruism goes far beyond music in the kitchen. It is her eternal worry that makes her a mom and her ability to self-sacrifice to allow me to endure the great stresses of life that makes her also my best friend.
Finally, regardless of the time of day or state I am in, she listens to me. I can tell by the look in her eyes and the ever so slight changes in her facial expressions that she hears each word I utter, and understands those that remain silent. My mom can read me because quite simply, she is my mom; It is how she acts upon those perceptions, though, that make her also my best friend.
I love you mom. You are my rock.
