Mom

Only one word is needed to describe this person, who has made as big of an impact on my life as any: Mom. The word is tiny, but the significance is broad and far-reaching. I am who I am in my life because of my mother, and I am immensely grateful to her.

Mom is someone who has always valued, and encouraged, me to be myself, in all of my eccentric and beautiful peculiarities. She has noticed my intensity from the very beginnings of my life, and she accepted me for who I was (and am), rather than trying to dial me back and turn me into someone I am not. And I thank you for that, Mom, because as I near my forty-first birthday, I realize more and more that “I am who I am,” and one of the things that I am is intense. I am so grateful that you have always accepted that part of me.

One other hallmark of Mom was that she did, and does, value learning and, more specifically, reading and the English language. She was reading me books basically from the womb (I wouldn’t be overly surprised if she was reading them to me in utero!), and she instilled, and cultivated, a love for books, words, reading, and writing that has blossomed in me over the years. I consider my way with words to be one of my greatest talents, and I owe nearly all of the impetus in the development of this facility to Mom.

What I’ve come to understand more clearly as an adult, which was lost on me as a child and young adult, is that Mom is quite a competitive person in her own right, and that she drives hard for those things that she desires. Perhaps I should’ve known that a person who was valedictorian of her high school class was competitive, but I have discerned this more clearly over the years as I have observed her become the president of a large civic organization, find an ultra-competitive and quality husband, and, more recently, become zealous about golf and the various facets of her golf game.

More than anything, though, what I have always received from Mom is a welcome. Whether I am happy, sad, or somewhere in between, I know – without having to think about whether it is true or not – that I am cared for and supported, and that the door is always open (both literally and metaphorically). One could make a good, even unassailable, case that Mom has spoiled and pampered me over the years, it is true. And I am probably a few shades more entitled than I should be as a result. Be that as it may, when weighed in the balance of life experience, her solicitousness has been so much more for the good in my life than to my detriment. Of that I am sure, and I am so, so grateful that I have been, from the first to the last, the recipient of a mother’s love and affection in a way that has taught me that I have a place at the table, a seat on the couch, a pillow on which to lay my often weary head, and a shoulder on which to cry.

Mom, despite my (and your) considerable skill with words, there is no way to express in words who you have been, and continue to be, in, for, and to me. I am grateful to call you my mother, and I respect you as a woman making her own pilgrimage through this world as well. May you and that wonderful step-father of mine continue to enjoy sharing your lives with each other, and may you continue to touch, and be touched by, the lives of others as you share yourselves with friends, both new and old.

I love you, Mom.

Your son,

Tom