I don’t have a mom. I have tried to adopt a mother many times in the 20 years since mine has passed away. But no one could fill her shoes. Nobody could hear my voice and know that something was wrong. Nobody would lay in the bed eating popcorn and watching scary movies with me. Nobody could make a 7 layer dip quite like my mother when I was sad. Nobody calls me on the phone, “just because” and we end up talking for an hour.
I finally realize that I will only have one mom. They broke the mold after she was born. I am so blessed to have had such a pillar of a woman to set the foundation of my life for 28 years. Sometimes, in my stillness, I hear her voice and feel her presence guiding me and reminding me not to take life so seriously.
My motherless status is magnified around Mother’s Day. Through the twinges of sadness, I feel the joy of knowing that I had the honor of knowing the greatest mother I could have ever had. She inspired me to be the best: wife and mother I could be. I love you, Mom.
A Letter to My Child-
You have grown into a wonderful, kind, adult that I have had the honor of mothering. I have enjoyed guiding you through the formative years of your life. We’ve shared laughter and tears. You have taught me more than you will ever know. Thank you.
Now it is time for me to let you go. It is time for life to teach you its own lessons without the safety net of running home. You are ready. Yes, you will struggle. The struggle will make you stronger and help you align with the priorities and purpose of your life. You will fall down, but, I have faith that you will always manage to get back up. You have been blessed with the gift of resilience. You are magnificent. Your journey will help you to really know that.
I am letting you go, because I love you. My shadow can be suffocating. I think it is almost as hard for me, as it is for you. But, I am certain that it is time for you to spread your wings and fly. I can’t wait to watch you soar.
The Mysterious Doggy Bag Heist
I rarely eat out. So, when I do, I splurge. I had a scrumptious dinner. I ate so much of the appetizers and the salad that I was too full to finish my yummy pasta dish. It had all kinds of mushrooms and peppers and capers. So, I got a Doggy Bag. I promptly put it in my refrigerator when I got home.
By lunch the next day, I was salivating in anticipation of my pasta from the night before. I looked in the refrigerator. I moved the Miracle Whip and the milk and eggs. No Doggy Bag. My food was gone. I questioned my husband, “Have you seen my Doggy Bag?” “No, check with your daughters, they probably ate it.” I went up to my daughters with my hands on my hips and my neck slithering like a snake, “Did you two eat my food?” “No, mom, we swear, we didn’t touch it!” they both claimed.
I didn’t get it. Where could my food be? I checked the trash for evidence of the heist. NOTHING. By this time, my stomach was growling so loudly my parrot began to squawk in reply. Maybe it’s in the freezer. Still, no food! Who did it, who stole my Doggy Bag? I stood there, dejected and starving. Finally, I decided to give in and make a peanut butter sandwich. While I was eating my sandwich, looking out the window into my backyard, I saw my Chocolate Labrador, Nelson, busy licking Doggy Bag container clean. My dog had stolen my Doggy Bag! Well, at least somebody had a good lunch.