Dear Mom

Dear Mom,

I distinctly remember a time when I didn’t want to be like you; I wanted to do things differently. My way. I didn’t understand why you worried so much or how you could get so excited about a new crock pot. I laughed at the music you listened to and how you said words like, “inerstin” and hurrican”. I didn’t want your advice because I thought I knew better. 

Perhaps that’s the way of mothers and daughters. Daughters step out into the world wanting to do things their own way, not wanting to hear someone say, “You’re just like your mother.” 

I imagine you understood that when I gave you pushback about parenting advice or returned the silk flower arrangement you bought for my apartment. I’m sure I hurt your feelings more than once, but you just loved me anyway. 

Despite my determination to do it my way, our gracious God knew how blessed my life would be if even a small part of who you were could make its way into my heart and mind.

You’re not here, but yesterday your laughter danced through my heart when my lemon cake stuck in the pan, falling out in clumps. I scraped it all out and shaped it into a cake on the plate, sandcastle style. Just like you would have done. You taught me to laugh at myself, making lemonade out of lemons. I just didn’t see it happening.

You’re not here, but I felt you beside me while I rummaged through a clearance rack at Belk. Funny, how a department store could hold so many memories. My first back-to-school outfits, my college bedding, my wedding china, baby clothes for my children…You taught me the joy of showering others with thoughtful gifts. 

You’re not here, but I have understood your worrisome heart as my children have walked through heartbreak, left the nest, traveled across the country, and made choices I would not have made. 

You’re not here, but now I feel your love for me in a deeper way as I wait for a phone call from one of my kids, as time with them goes by too fast, as I long for the days when I could just hold them in my lap. 

You’re not here but I could feel you sharing in my excitement when I got my new job. I wanted so badly to call you and tell you all about it because I knew you would be so happy for me. Over the years, always across miles, I called you to tell you all the things. You looked for ways to celebrate me. I never had to wonder if you were proud of me or if you would support my decisions. 

You’re not here, but I see your adventurous spirit in my children who travel the globe and start new things. I see your crazy sense of humor in some of them and your strong independent spirit in others. You loved them well.

You’re not here, but if you were we would buy a newspaper, circle all the best yard sales and spend Saturday morning looking for treasures. 

You’re not here, but if you were we would pack a lunch and some Dr, Pepper and sit on that big rock in the middle of North Mills River and watch the water flow for a while before we hiked.

You’re not here, but if you were I would get you to show me how you make your chicken and dumplings and apple butter because I never did. Both are legendary.

You’re not here, but if you were we would take a trip to the beach and wade in the water and talk about how much Granny would want to be there too.

You’re not here, but if you were we would play a game of rummy and eat Jif peanut butter and Ritz crackers.

You’re not here, but if you were I would tell you that I am the most blessed of daughters. I would thank you for loving me so well, for showing me how to laugh at my own blunders and forgive others with the same grace. I would tell you that I want to be just like you.