Momma,
Today is your birthday. Because *I* am a lady and *YOU* are a lady, I will not reveal your years all over cyberspace. Even though a teeny tiny mischevious little part of me would like to.
When I think about it being your birthday today, my mind is flooded with memories and thoughts, each scrambling over each other to take hold so that I am cognizant of them. Most recently, I think of your reaction when I told you that I drank again. You said that you wished you could hug me, and I wished that you could too, even though I struggled against your affections all those years.
I think it would’ve been hell to be a mother to a willful, defiant, strong child like me, who told you at 13 that I thought I had a drinking problem. Who at 16 told you I was going off to college and there was not a damn thing you could do about it. Who at 20 told you I WAS going to move in with that boy, and I didn’t CARE what you thought. Who wanted so badly to fit in with her peers and be loved by them (even though you and Daddy were more than willing to love me yourselves) that I pushed you and anything you told me, away. I hope there were some good times in there for you, somewhere.
I think about how much I have tried to change in those years since then. How I have tried to hear and swallow and embody your words, how I have tried to be a good daughter, someone that you and daddy would be at least a little bit proud of, and I hope that I have succeeded.
My fondest memories of our relationship are centered around laughter. Constant and flowing throughout, despite the ugliness (that I imposed on you) of my adolescence and young adulthood. I think we started laughing together after I started teaching and finally grew a sense of humor because I had learned (through kids) to laugh at myself. And I hope that’s what you remember, too. How much I love(d) you in spite of myself.
I wish I could take all those laughing times and wear them in a locket around my neck. I would take them out and look at them every day, taking comfort in the times when I was squealing and gasping for air, feeling so happy that I could burst. I am blessed to have had an abundance of those times with you and Daddy and most recently dh.
I hope you know how much my world still revolves around you, and that even though I am a grown woman that I love you…so big.
God put me with you for a reason.
Happy Birthday.
Alex.
well, that made me cry, and i don’t much care anymore if the world knows i’m a 60 year old crippled broad or not.
i have never been anything BUT proud of you; you’re your own harshest critic, and although you don’t realize it, you’ve accomplished much.
being your mom is the best thing i ever did with my life. no job, no paycheck could have ever been as fulfilling as being your mother has been.
and yes, you were a handfull … it took 3 adults to raise you, after all … hahahahaha … my grandmother told me when you were two that she’d n ever seen a kid as full of spunk as my mother until you came along … and your nana is legend for her exploits … she was also a climber … i think she climbed both to a rooftop and up a mean horse’s leg when she was 3 … so at least you come by your temperment honestly … hahahahahaha … .
i wish every minute of every day that i could be hugging you. perhaps someday we will discover a climate that both of us find salubrious.
love you too …. THIS BIG … .
momma