YOU ARE YOUR MOTHER'S CHILD

The other day I had the clear realization that I am my mother's daughter. Has this ever happened to you? Little flashes of recognition. Laughing the way she did. Enjoying a bug the way she did. Being impulsive the way she was or is. Doing something for no reason the way she did. It struck me differently than it ever has before: the inner realization that I was birthed from this interesting woman.

My mom was the original earth mama. She'd forget to put her shoes on walking out of her apartment on the 20th floor of a New York City skyscraper (we're not talking the country here). I now go barefoot the majority of the time. She gave me happy feet by not making me wear shoes as a little girl until I was about 4 years old because I didn't want to. Happy feet are a big deal in this life. Your feet support you.

My mother was a unique personality I can't think of without smiling. That's not to say I didn't have moments of deep frustration with her also. She didn't know how to not be honest and it was never with ill intent; just plain speaking. That often came out as funny because it was so direct. It cracked me up. I love it. I've been called direct also and I appreciate that.

As a child of much older parents, I saw my trailblazing mom gladly working her whole life. She showed me by example that you can work and love your family at the same time. She was so full of curiosity; she couldn't stop investigating ideas. I'm blessed to say she gave that to me too.

As talented as she was (she wrote many books and was the head of communications for Unicef for decades), she still thought deep down that men's opinions somehow mattered more than women's (her father was a well-known figure and I believe that's where that came from). Luckily, I thought that was nonsense and told her so. I'd encourage her to appreciate all she was and to put herself out there more. I can, however, relate to her mixture of having so much to give and being afraid to put herself “out there.“ I struggle with that and am working on it.

When my mother passed (quietly in her sleep, as she so deserved), she started sending me wonderful vocabulary words. A writer her whole life, she used interesting, juicy words in speaking. Words will pop into my brain and come out my mouth that I know came from her. Great words. Unusual words. Words I simply didn't know I knew. And they're always correct in meaning. Such a fun way to communicate with her.

My mom always said she loved being pregnant. I think she could have given birth and just swooped up her babies in hugs and kisses and continued reading and investigating all the interesting things catching her attention. It's humbling and charming to see how I am my mother's daughter.

She was the definition of loving aliveness. Happy Mother's Day, mommy. I'm so glad you chose me.

P.S. I got her giant forehead, lol.