Sunday, January 18, 2015

Here's to the Woman Who Raised Me

      If you follow me on Instagram or Facebook you've probably well figured out that my dad and I are extremely close. You've probably also wondered why my mom doesn't get an equal amount of attention or if our relationship isn't as good. The latter couldn't be any further from the truth. My mother and I are extremely, extremely close. Every morning on my way to work, she calls me (at 0630) just to say "hi" and tell me to have a great day. We talk multiples times a days, text even more, and meet for breakfast whenever we can. She's magnificent. But, unlike my father, she hates the spotlight. Ask to host a birthday party in her honor? Good Luck, she's been "double checking her schedule" for an available date since April 2008. Facebook shout-outs make her unconformable, and Instagram is a loss because pictures of her are spotted on the same frequency as the Loch Nest monster. This isn't because my mom doesn't like people, in fact quite the opposite. My mom loves people. She loves them so much- she would rather take care of them and watch as their dreams come true than to risk taking up, even the tiniest piece, of their spotlight.  My silent warrior as I've called her. She's tough as steel when she needs to be, and has a heart of gold always. She's the backbone I wish I had, the faithful servant I wish to be, and the mom I pray to become.
     When I was in grade school a popular question was "If you could be anyone in the world, who would you be?" My grade school self foolishly would answer somewhere along the lines of  "Alanis Morissette or Jewel". If you were to ask me now that very question, my answer would be clear and simple- I would want to be my mom. So, yes, you may not see a lot of public shout-outs, but what you don't see are the hours of conversations, the millions of laughs, the multitudes of cupcakes, and all the "I love yous" we exchange. She's one in a million. No, she's one is a gazillion. 

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