Mom, I remember.

Moms are angels. They are intuitive, soulful, caring, selfless angels that walk the earth disguised as humans… This post is dedicated to one of these angels.

The other day at school I gave my 3rd grade class a choice of writing their moms letters, poems, making them a card, etc. I smiled as I walked around the room looking at the homemade pictures, rhymes, and songs. One girl was working so diligently that when I called for everyone to clean up she continued on, unbeknownst to the rest of the world around her. Gently I touched her on the shoulder and whispered, “You’re missing recess!” She looked up at me and smiled. “It’s ok I want to keep on going, I have so many memories I want to tell my mom about.” I gazed down at her paper and at the words that spilled over the blue wide-ruled lines. Each sentence began a new memory and was written in such vivid language I could imagine this tiny child and her mother hand in hand like a movie reel. It was beautiful beyond words. To thank someone by simply remembering everything was so perfect. (I decided to steal her technique)

Dear Mom,

I remember when we use to travel back east together and we would wake up before the sun to head to the airport. I remember you nuzzling me out of sleep and how my bright red suitcase sat expertly positioned next to yours always ready for travel.

I remember the day before first grade when you took me and Alison to get our nails done. I felt so utterly adult going into that first grade room the next day and I know my nails had everything to do with it.

I remember how you always used to write notes in my lunchbox. As soon as I sat down in the cafeteria I would toss all my food aside and search for my note first. Those notes were better than any delicious treat you could’ve packed me.

I remember how we used to read together every night. The two of us, noses stuck in  a book, side by side until bedtime called my name.

I remember walking the dogs and talking endlessly about life. Our conversations have evolved over the years but the ritual remains one of my favorites.

I remember making sugar cookies at Christmas. Powdered sugar coated our hair, red and green frosting caked our faces, and Christmas music filled the air.

I remember when I had my heart broken for the first time. You laid with me in my bed and your fingers danced through my hair until tears drifted me into sleep.

I remember driving away to Las Vegas and staring out the back window at your face. Tears stinging my cheeks, and knowing in every inch of my being how much you believed in me.

These memories and a million, billion, trillion more are why I am thankful for you, my very own, handcrafted, custom designed, made for me angel.

Love, Megs

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