I just got off the phone with my Mom. As I have said before, my mom is the best. She is my greatest fan and I feel no need for any more fans.
Tonight we just blabbed about a lot of random things. Blabbed for about an hour. Mom validated all my feelings and thoughts. Validation is a good thing. In between those things she reminded me how wonderful I am. I like being reminded that I am wonderful. Sometimes I am even convinced. At least I feel, for Mom's sake, I better be G-damned wonderful!
Mothers and daughters sometimes feel as if they have to "tread lightly" with one another. I am a mother, so I know this. During a few points in our conversation I felt as if Mom was "treading lightly". Example: "Have you called Scott (my brother) about...[pause]...I talked to your father today.
Mom was WANTING to ask me if I had called my brother regarding the brakes on my car that are on their very last leg BUT she stopped and moved on to something new. How do mothers know when a subject as insignificant as brakes are a "sensitive issue" with their children. I dunno. But my Mom knew. I hope that , as a mother, I know these insignificant, but significant, subjects when it comes to my children.
What I know is that even though I am 46 years old I still value my Mothers opinion. I know she will never steer me wrong direction. I believe that when my mom tells me I am right then I AM right. I know when my mom tells me I am wrong then I AM wrong.
Rewind. 40 years. I am six. Sitting on the front porch stoop, head tucked in, arms cradling my knees and studying my new, red ,KEDS gym-shoes with bright white laces. Mom comes out the door and the white, aluminum storm-door slams behind her. "Hey Teets-a-bell! You wanna go for a walk?" She reaches her hand out towards me and I take it.
We walk. My tiny hand tightly clenched in hers. I want to skip. We skip. She skips. I want to sing "Skip-to-my-Lou. We sing. She sang. We walk and talk and walk and talk. I feel so loved and important. There is nowhere else I want to be.
My hand is still clenched in hers. We still walk, we still talk, we still sing.
Our song is like no other. I love my mother.