My Mom

Missing my mom. Funny how that happens, right? In high school you're just dying to get out of the house and have some privacy, and now you're dying to have your mom's shoulder to lean on. I'll admit that it isn't like that all the time, and I'm certain that neither one of us wants to live together again, but it sure is nice to have a friend in your mom.

She gets me. She annoys me. She makes me laugh. She farts. She's quirky. She can't hear. She's getting old gracefully and ungracefully. She loves unconditionally. She laughs. She frowns. She shakes her head in agreement with the TV. She always thinks we're making fun of her, even when we aren't. She crosses her legs to sneeze. She protects her grandchildren like a mama bear. She coughs funny. She plays on the ground. She can't work a laptop. She adores her Kindle. She drinks coffee. She drinks wine. She obsesses about little things. She loves a bargain. She's empathetic. She prays. She hums. She's hyper. She takes big bites. She doesn't like dogs but she tolerates them. She gives affection freely. She picks up other people's babies. She cooks the best pork chops. She lives to please. She likes even numbers. She means well.