I Love My Mom
Why I wish I had my mother’s outlook on life.
My mom is a saint.
She’s the best person I know. For years I thought she was in the wrong as she chastised me for rebelling and breaking her rules. Only in my more recent years have I been able to see that she was right. If only I had listened to her. Maybe I’d be doing better in life compared to where I am now. Scratch that, I know I would. Struggling with a whole new set of demons, I am filled with guilt on a daily basis over doing what my mom told me all my life not to do.
She’s a very consistent person, my mom. Takes her Lexapro every day, gets up early, goes to work at my old high school… She’s who I aspire to be like. I know some people may say that I should be closer with my dad than my mom, but phooey. I live with my dad, so there’s no love lost there, it’s just such a cleansing experience when I get to spend time with my mom at her house. No intoxicants needed, save for some high quality coffee, we chat, do puzzles, and sometimes even watch movies with her husband in the living room.
I’ll often go swimming in her pool when I’m at her house too, after which I’ll usually rinse off under their outdoor shower where the water pressure is much stronger than the indoor shower at my dad’s house. It puts his to shame.
The food, however, is the best part. Chicken, steak, pork… you name the protein, they have it. You name the snack, they have a healthier version. You name the home-baked dessert, they have it freshly made. I mean, they literally have fruits like jackfruit and avocados growing in their yard, and don’t even get me started on the macadamia nut tree! I pick, clean, crack, and toast my own macadamia nuts when I’m over at my mom’s house. If that isn’t livin’, I don’t know what is.
Earl, my stepdad, is a very practical, hands-on kinda guy. He’s a whiz when it comes to building things with his hands, amongst numerous other things. The only thing he can’t do is sing. But, I pick up the slack in that arena, so we’re none worse for the wear.
I guess I’m writing this to kind of commemorate all the good times I’ve spent and will spend at my mother’s house, as I find I don’t acknowledge how fortunate I am quite often enough. I am blessed. I have a loving mother and a tolerant father.
But this is about my mother. She feeds me, helps me manage my finances, helps me through my mental health struggles, and a whole lot more. She’s my rock. Thanks, mom. I love you.
