My mom and I are really good friends. She’s a role model for me and I’ve looked up to her for a long time, and I’d like to think that she likes me quite a bit as well. So for Mother’s Day, I gave her some money and said, “Let’s get matching tattoos.”

There was a lot of back and forth on design ideas. Each one was bursting with love and meaning for both of us, and eventually, we found one that we both really liked. My mom designed it herself in her little notebook and showed me one night as I was sitting on her couch. It was a delicate infinity sign made of a cherry blossom branch with several flowers around the sides with the middle sporting a flowy script that read “believe”. I was instantly in love. She constantly tells me to believe in myself and believe in the positives and believe in the better things in life. The cherry blossoms stood for her mother and her strength. We decided that this was the one and that we wanted it on the top of our wrist, like a bracelet.

Time went by as we were waiting for me to recover from whatever illness had been plaguing me, as well as the pain and bruising from a hand IV that ran up my wrist and a good portion of my arm. Eventually, we gave up on waiting for me to get better. I emailed the artist that I go to for each of my tattoos. We went in to drop off the design and it really started to sink in that I was going to get a matching tattoo with someone who was truly important to me and such a role model. My mom has designed several of my tattoos prior to this one, which I was thrilled with because I would have her art on me forever, even after her time. This meant even more somehow. Knowing that she would have this for the remainder of her life. She would see this tattoo after we fought after we went through hard times, and she would think of me and her own mother. The tattoo stands for the legacy that was three generations.

We went in to get the tattoos, and for the first time, I wasn’t nervous at all. My mom went first, laying back in the tattooing chair that had been reclined. She wasn’t nervous either, which I think gave me the courage to not be nervous either. I watched the stencil become real, permanent ink in her skin. I was excited to have a matching design on my skin too. When it was my turn to go, my mom sat in the chair next to me and talked casually as if nothing was happening. The tattoo didn’t hurt as bad as I expected and actually hurt worse than some of my other tattoos. When the artist had finished up, I glanced down at my wrist. I couldn’t help but smile. It was really beautiful, and even more than that, it was symbolic.

Now, almost a week later, my mom and I are washing our tattoos together and watching them peel a little. We joke about the tattoo balm we put on them and how one of my cats tries to lick it off. I am so thankful to have a mom that not only cool enough to get a tattoo, but to have a mom who loves me unconditionally, even when things get tough, and enough to put a permanent reminder of that on her body.