Phrases like, “You’re just like your mother.” or "You're your mother's daughter." are fairly common.
Sometimes they have a negative connotation, others, a complimentary tone.
For a while, whenever someone spoke those words to me (always in a positive manner), I was bothered, not because of their sentiment, but because I felt like they were detracting from my individuality. I felt less like my own being and more like a replica of my mom, sans the 1980s.
So, I simply smiled and gave a nod of affirmation, not exactly amazed by someone’s observation that WOW, I looked like the woman who—surprise—gave me half of my genes.
(wow, 8th grade was a good time)
But see, that’s where I was wrong.
Maybe on some level people told me I was like my mom because we share many physical similarities—
Like the same brown eyes, almonds that squint behind glasses frames, unashamed of the wrinkles that our smiles will bring.
It also goes beyond appearance and our style to our habits, our humor, our reactions.
I’ve been thinking about my mom a lot. Now that, I, her baby, am far, far from that shake-shingled house, I’ve had the space to help me view my mom differently. I see mindsets and ideals that she emphasized throughout my youth and important values that she has passed on to me.
This lens, I didn’t really use as a kid. I don’t think I processed the woman that my mother is separate from her identity as a mother.
By being away from her,
in seeing her,
seeing me,
seeing our independence,
I have opened my eyes a bit more.
My mom is the woman who has taught me so many lessons in life and embodies all of the characteristics I long to foster in my own character.
My mom is a strong woman. She worked countless hours through my childhood, grading papers, teaching summer school, working with kids on her own time, bringing in supplies for kids who needed them, spending her own money on classroom supplies, seeking to make the classroom environment comfortable and safe for all students, to be patient, kind, and above all, to show love and respect to everyone she meets.
She is determined. In the years of my life, she has gone back to school, and now holds two master’s degrees. She is an avid learner, passionate about education, equal opportunities, and giving it one’s all.
She is a fighter, adamant about what she believes, while still gracious and kind in her speech.
She is a woman of God, passionate about His love and is a light in a world that many times can be such a dark place.
Even though she puts so much time into her work, she is always there when someone needs her, when I need her. She has answered my calls at 12pm when I didn’t have lunch money or forgot my project at home, at 2am, when I’m crying and angry and alone, my calls in the middle of the night when I’m sick. She has helped me through nightmares, homework, life struggles, through the tears. Whether she is busy or not, she is there, and she makes everyone feel important.
She is patient and tender, a devoted and caring wife. She is thoughtful and sensitive and a place of refuge.
She is calm and peaceful, a mediator in times of conflict, a soothing voice in times of pressure.
She is intelligent and eloquent, expressive and creative, charismatic and compassionate.
She is beautiful, aging with the grace.
She is elegant and gentle, humble and wise.
She is a woman I love deeply and am so blessed, thankful, and proud to call her my mother.
Being away from home has allowed me to see more of the woman whose existence I previously put in a box, labeled, and accepted. Now, I have ripped away the box and my conceptions, and I see a woman that so many others, myself included, admire, and strive to be like.
I see a woman who, when someone tells me,
“You’re just like your mother.”
I can proudly say,
“Thank you, that’s what I am hoping for.”
