To My Mother, on Her 61st Birthday

Happy Birthday Mom. I just felt the need to write about you, to you, today. I came into your life almost 32 years ago. I can't imagine what your birthday was like that year, waiting and wondering who I was, and when I'd come. But I came, as your late birthday gift that year. A girl, after three rather trying boys. Pinks and lace after corduroy and blue. I am grateful that I have had you as my mom.

I have so many memories, and so many feelings about you. So much of my life has been colored by you; you've been there in the background, in the foreground, everywhere, every part of my life has a trace of you in it. I am grateful for the fact that you were my mom first, not my friend, but that you are both to me now. I know that I can call you about anything (and I have), and that you are there. You'll offer thoughts and advice when I need it, when I ask for it. And you've been there to cry with me, to laugh with me, and to help me to laugh at myself. You've helped me through those really bad times, as well as enjoyed the good with me.

I remember early morning rides to Charlotte Wood in the old station wagon, KCBS droning in the background. Eating lunch in your room with you on some of my tough jr. high-type days. I remember bed-time stories read to us as a special treat. And bears that would talk and wave at us. I remember dreading going to the fabric store with you, but enjoy doing that so much now. I remember liking an outfit of yours so much, that you went and got one for me (it was a black and white graphic printed top and skirt, do you remember?). I also remember struggling with math in high school, that it came, seemingly, so easy to Julie, and worrying that I would disappoint you if I didn't do well. I can see you dancing in the kitchen, trying to show Julie and I the twist, the mashed-potato, and others; and let's not forget the happy-dance. Puzzles on the dining room table, grading on the dining room table, your life was always on that table. I remember spending the day with you in the SF garment district, of Britax, and of more fabric in one place than I ever thought possible.

You were there for my miscarriage, as well as my four babies. You were there after my surgery, to help my soul to heal. You were there for my graduations; and cheered when I called to tell you I wanted to teach physics (you laughed too, and reminded me that I had once sworn that I would never be a teacher). You've been there to encourage me in all my endevours. And I am so grateful for all of it, for all you've done, for all that you are. I love you mom.