why I love my mama
She has a livejournal. She gives good advice. She can read a pattern. She is not afraid to shovel shit, metaphorical or literal. She is superbly educated. She can cook anything (she experiments with recipes from cooking shows). She tries strange liquors and cordials that she discovers in mystery novels. She doesn't mind when I call her from the grocery store with a food question. (She can never be supplanted by Google.) She'll bail me out if I have a real emergency, everything from my airconditioner going out to my heart getting broken. She always returns my calls.
She reads anything. She laughs at my jokes. She makes me laugh. She has a funny upside-down smile sometimes. Animals and children like her, and she's been around a lot of both. She fulfilled her childhood dream of owning a horse, and now she exudes serenity around all kinds of herds. She has nice dogs. She knitted me an afghan. She sewed me formal dresses. She's one of the best musicians I know. She likes my sweetie. She does not pressure me for grandchildren, though I know she will be a phenomonal grandparent.
She raised me well. She made me write thank-you notes. She encouraged me to be my own person, and enjoys reaping the consequences of teaching me independence. She never hampered me with her own fears and struggles; she was instead a mamagoddess to admire and emulate. Later on, she let me discover that she's a person with clay feet, just like me. So now I get to look up to someone who's a fully developed human being, both flawed and beautiful.
I love my Mama.
She reads anything. She laughs at my jokes. She makes me laugh. She has a funny upside-down smile sometimes. Animals and children like her, and she's been around a lot of both. She fulfilled her childhood dream of owning a horse, and now she exudes serenity around all kinds of herds. She has nice dogs. She knitted me an afghan. She sewed me formal dresses. She's one of the best musicians I know. She likes my sweetie. She does not pressure me for grandchildren, though I know she will be a phenomonal grandparent.
She raised me well. She made me write thank-you notes. She encouraged me to be my own person, and enjoys reaping the consequences of teaching me independence. She never hampered me with her own fears and struggles; she was instead a mamagoddess to admire and emulate. Later on, she let me discover that she's a person with clay feet, just like me. So now I get to look up to someone who's a fully developed human being, both flawed and beautiful.
I love my Mama.