This is my mother.
She is my rock, my compass, my best friend.
Whenever we see each other, she always gives me a big rocking hug that all at once comforts me and makes me squeal with joy. We usually end up talking a mile a minute about any and everything even though we may have just talked to each other the previous day.
She tells it like it is. She is always there when I need her. She doesn’t judge( at least not out loud or to your face) and she always has a kind word.
I love her.
And I love it when she is here.
I hate that she lives 2 1/2 hours away and I can’t just drive up the street to her house like I did when we lived in DC. I hate that I can’t just drop by just to see what she is cooking. I hate that Pookah can’t see her everyday.
Technology helps. I can put photos on Facebook for her to see, I can text her a quick photo. I call her on the way home from work, just to tell her about my day. I scold her about taking care of herself, and I am fiercely protective of her. I will hunt.you.down if you mess with my mama.
But even though I talk to her every day, there is nothing in the world like having her here. I admit that I cried when she left on Monday. I didn’t let her see me, but I cried. Like a baby. Like I wouldn’t see her in two months at Christmas. Like I wouldn’t talk to her on the phone later that night.
We miss her still….
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