This One’s For You, Mom
Imagination is a powerful tool that can make you happy, mad, or sad. Pick an emotion.
I used to ponder what it’d be like to lose my mom. The thought of her being gone would bring me to literal tears. Life without her created a painful void that I never wanted to experience, which gives you an idea of how close I am to her.
You don’t mind that I brag about my mom a little, do you? Good. Because when you have a mom like mine, it’s easy to do.
When I was five years old, she worked evenings as a cashier at a grocery store. I’d come home from school. We’d have dinner, then she’d leave for work. I missed her terribly. I remember one evening when she had off from work. I was so excited! She was going to be all mine for the whole night. But she left to get her hair done, and I stood at my bedroom window crying, watching her pull out of the driveway.
A few years later, Mom worked two part-time jobs. Eventually, she was hired full-time at a credit union, where she worked her way up to supervisor of the teller department.
At the time, I hadn’t realized the sacrifices my mom made for our family and often took her for granted. Looking back at what she had accomplished, I couldn’t be prouder.
As a teenager, I kept life interesting for her. She’d be on the couch waiting for me to get home. I’d waltzed into the house well past my curfew. I may have sped up her hair turning gray during that phase of my life. Sorry, Mom.
We all go through different stages in life. When I was a kid, Mom was my mother. When I became an adult, she was still my mother but also became my best friend.
She always shoots it straight with me, never sugar-coating anything. If I’m in the wrong, she lets me know. To this day, I still go to her for advice. I’m not too proud to say, “What do you think, Mom?” I don’t always agree with her, but I value and respect her viewpoints.
I have formed a good habit over the years. Whenever I leave my mom’s house or end a phone conversation with her, I always tell her I love her. I can’t hang up the phone or walk out the door until I do. Yes, we’ve had our share of fights. Maybe I was in a mood, which happens occasionally, and I snapped at her. I hate those moments. Thankfully, I’m not too proud to tell her I’m sorry and ask for forgiveness. Being the woman she is, she easily forgets about my outburst.
When I wrote Return to Garrison, the story started as a woman’s dream of becoming an author, but quickly turned into a story about relationships between mothers and daughters. I dedicated my novel to my mom because, without her love, support, and encouragement, I could not have developed Lydia’s character.
As my dedication page says, “Inspiration deserves recognition.”
