Dear Mom

Mom,
I’ve been sitting at this computer screen, staring at it for about ten minutes. I’m this close to just throwing out a stupid quote or something about mothers and then writing a cornball little note. But I won’t, because that’s not what I want to say. What I really wish I could just up and write is how much I admire your courage. I wish I could find some non-cheesy way to tell you that every time I see you make a sacrifice for us or give up something that you really don’t have to and maybe shouldn’t, there’s this feeling inside me that says Well, you’re supposed to be like that, you know. And then I think about how much I’m really not, and how much I need help to get there. And I think about how incredibly blessed I am to have you, and how much I love you just for being that person that reminds me I’m not perfect…without saying anything. Yeah, so that’s the first thing I would write if I were a good writer.
The second thing I would write is a clever little saying or quote to encourage you. Something witty and wise, to tell you that it’s all gonna be okay in the end, no matter what. If I were a perfect writer, I would have something like that just off the top of my head, and it would be perfect - probably from Confucius of Whoopi Goldberg or someone like that. A perfect writer would uplift your spirits with something awesome, and tell you that it’s gonna be okay. Even when we’re being absolute fools. Even when you just want to give up because you’re so sick and tired of fighting the world every day. Even when you ask God, “where did I go wrong?” and you’re being absolutely serious. Just know that it’s going to be okay. And I won’t ever let it be otherwise. Well, that’s what I would say if I were a good writer.
And of course, the perfect writer would have a perfect ending. She would close with something that would stick in your mind for as long as you live, something that she would later embroider in an afghan and give to you on your 70th birthday and you would smile and remember that she actually wrote it 28 years ago, in that cute little letter that was sooo perfect. (And, by the way, she would know for sure that she actually did that math right just now… 42+28=70? I hope…) And that little afghan saying would become your motto, and you would bring it up to all their friends when they come to you with problems. “Well,” you would say, “as my beautiful, ingenious, perfect-writer daughter once said……” and they would hug you and tell you how great your daughter is. Well, I tried, mom, but this is all I got. Don’t go and get an afghan just yet.

Some people’s moms are funny
Some people’s moms are great.
Some people’s moms are talented,
Some let us stay up late.
My friends talk about their moms
With stories and complaints
They say their moms are tough on them
And I laugh in their face.
But no matter what they say to me
I always have to say
My mom is just plain beautiful
In every single way.
Maybe she’s no model
And maybe she’s no star,
But she just glows with virtue,
And her love goes near to far.
Her hair shines with sincerity,
Her nails painted with peace.
Her eyes are bright and loving
Her hands are soft with strength
Her prudence and her kindness
Are known here, far, and wide.
And her body’s curves are slender
To show her graciousness inside.
And though I get her as my mom
Her shyness tells me, “hush!”
I’m held back by her humility;
This isn’t half enough.