Here’s to my mom–snickerdoodle baker, doll clothing seamstress, fixer of hair. Involved with all my childhood (…and adult) obsessions. Listened to all my issues. Knew all my teachers. Knew all my friends. Threw a great birthday party. Came to all my concerts, cheered us on when we went to competitions.
She was married to my dad at seventeen. She’d grown up a good Southern Baptist, and remains so to this day. Her own mom had a whole lot of health problems, some of which my mom’s inherited, unfortunately. My brother and I weren’t grown in her body, but in her heart, as she would say. Other women gave us to her, so we are gifts. And so is she, really.
We haven’t always gotten along–I mean, what mom and daughter does?–but she’s my mom, and she’s the best a girl could ask for. So I raise my glass (full of something non-alcoholic, for the sake of her peace of mind) to her. Cheers, Mom, and thanks for everything.