You are the unsung hero of our family. You are the heart beat that I take for granted. The solution to every problem.
Like all moms do, you drive me nuts some times – constantly reminding me to do things and asking me if I remembered this or that. But it’s like when the air conditioner at our house goes off after quietly humming for several hours – suddenly I don’t know what to do with the silence. It’s nice having the background noise. The quiet seems unsettling. That’s how I feel when I don’t talk to you for more than few hours. Restless. I know that’s a weird comparison.
I call you when I don’t know where to find a something in the grocery store. You know where to look. I call you when I don’t know which medicine to take. You’ll know which one will work best. If I need a recipe, I call you. I call you when I’m not sure whether or not two colors match. You’ll have the answer. Even though you’re several states away, I am still pretty dependent.
Growing up, you worked more than 40 hours a week and still found time to help me with my homework and nag me about the cleanliness of my room. Not to mention the constant encouragement to pursue extracurriculars, and when I finally settled on volleyball, you were pretty gung-ho about being a “Team Mom” of sorts, buying cute gadgets for the girls, like matching socks and scrunchies. I think you also scored us a Gatorade sponsorship, but I don’t really remember the specifics on that one.
I know I was probably a pretty ungrateful little biotch. Teenagers are the worst, and I wish I would have said “thank you” more often. Like, thanks for letting me have all my friends over for fooseball parties upstairs, and thanks for letting me go to my friends’ houses pretty much whenever I wanted. Thanks for letting me roam the streets of Naples at all hours of the night. I can’t imagine how much sleep you lost. Thanks for letting me move my furniture around at 2 AM and not throwing me off a cliff. Thanks for feeding me, buying me things, teaching me the difference between right and wrong, making me read books, showing me the importance of a good education, brainwashing me to hate UF, and raising me overseas. Thanks for not being too strict, but letting me learn from my own mistakes. Thanks for the unconditional love, and for having a good sense of humor. Thanks for not telling Dad everything.
I know you think I don’t, but I miss you every day.
I love you very much.
Mother really does know best.