The day she dropped me off for kindergarten was terrifying. I didn’t want her to leave. I hated being left. I remember smelling my clothes throughout the day because the faint smell she left behind made feel just a little bit safer.
We watched every beauty pageant that came on tv. Specifically Miss Universe. She’d quiz me on what country I’d compete as, USA or the Philippines, and then have me stand on the coffee table and wave like I’d just won. I pouted to show my disgust, but on the inside I gushed at the attention.
She would make innocent comments about my clothes, appearance, or friends and I would give her the silent treatment for a week. And note in my diary how unfair life was for making me live with such a horrible person. I was 13. And an idiot.
She left me worried voicemails when I would drive an hour and a half back to school and forget to call her to say I’d made it safely to my dorm room. “Marie, call me. I’m worried. You could have been kidnapped and I won’t know because YOU WON’T CALL ME. I love you. You better not be kidnapped”. I would like to formally and publicly apologize for my irresponsible stupidity. I would also like to formally and publicly warn Otis that he better not pull that same crap with me.
Practically every week she shares a story about how she saw God work in a simple, but powerful, way. Then she asks where I am seeing Him work. This is great when I’m following and paying attention to Him, and not so great when I’m struggling to remember the last time I saw my Bible. No matter where I was in my Christian walk she’d remind me that I am a daughter of the King.
This year I’m celebrating the mom I was blessed with and praying that I am able to love Otis even half as well as she loves her kids.
Thank you, Mom. You done good, and I love you.