An Open Letter to My Mom


Photo by DOH4

Dear Mom,

As the person most likely to wait for my blog to be updated, (and consequently, the one to call me on the phone if it goes unpublished or contains an embarassing error), I’m certain you will find this post tonight. And I’m glad for that because there’s something I need to say.

Thank you for being my mom.

I remember as a child–in a moment of red, hot anger–shouting that you weren’t my mother. I was at the top of our dreadfully-carpeted basement steps, (that looked an awful lot like human hair), and I recall saying the hurtful statement louder than a jet plane. (Ironic that words are remembered long after actions are forgotten, isn’t it?)

Even then, I knew better than to believe what I was saying. The fact that you had changed countless dirty diapers and cleaned up after numerous bouts of the flu aside, you are clearly my mom for so many reasons. (Need I remind you that we call each other about Scrabble scores or misprints found in the newspaper with the enthusiasm of having won a lottery?)

You are clearly my mother because you are the first to tell me the truth. Perhaps more honest with me than I would have chosen at various times in my life, you are the one who nodded when my friends shook their heads. You were the one who told me to change my outfit or “re-consider my choice of a boyfriend” (that being interpreted: What are you thinking?!) You were the one who cared more about my success than my self-esteem. (And thank goodness for that or I’d still be wearing the worst kind of bouffant bangs.)

Meanwhile, I was the one rolling my eyes so far back in my head I nearly sprained something.

You were always honest with me, and so now I’ll be honest with you. I’ve never doubted for a moment that you loved me. I’ve never worried that you’d walk out on our family or dishonor my dad. If I’ve needed to talk to you–any time of the day or night–you’ve always listened. And you’ve instilled in me a love of my home and my family that ranks only after my love of God.

Though our opinions have sometimes clashed as loudly as cymbals in a Trans-Siberian orchestra, the truth remains.

You are my mom. And I’m very, very thankful for that.

Happy Mother’s Day.

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