For Mom

I don’t know how to write about what I’m supposed to write when I’m supposed to write about it. I wrote this last year, when nobody was reading this blog. And before that, I wrote this. This year I’m posting photos. Here are two.When I was a kid and a teenager, I went everywhere with my mom. To the bank, the gas station, and the grocery store. I ran all the errands with her and, in return, I cajoled her into taking me to the mall, or the closest fast food joint. She took me to the doctor once a week, and then once every two weeks, and finally once every three weeks for years and years because I was allergic to everything and got shots in both arms. She picked me up from band, and then track practice, and then parties and houses with boys. People thought we were sisters and I thought it was kind of cool to have such a young-looking mom. Now, I think about the fact that she had three kids by the time she was my age and I realize I didn’t have a young-looking mom, I had a young mom, period. Now, I look in the mirror and think about the fact that the older I get, the more I look just like her. I look just like her when she was my age with three kids, except that I just have a husband and a dog. I look just like her now, because she’s one of those rare women that looks the same now as she did at 30 as she did at 15 as she did when she was three. I drive like her, with my left leg bent at the knee, foot propped up next to the steering wheel, dangerous. I keep a Diet Dr. Pepper in the cup holder and turn the music up loud: Tom Petty, or Bruce Springsteen, or something shamefully country. When I brake or slow down, I throw my right arm across the passenger seat, usually not protecting anybody or everything, except my bag next to me. I love like her, hard, and with a little less worry, but just as many tears. I pray like her, always; for what, I don’t know. I don’t know how to write about what I’m supposed to write when I’m supposed to write about it. Sometimes it’s worth a try anyway: Happy Mother’s Day.

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1 Response to For Mom

  1. Mom says:

    Making me cry first thing in the morning….:) I love you too…and Happy Birthday!! Also, LOVE that picture of you.

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