It seems a tradition in our family is to have designated "sister days." These given days are exactly what they sound like, you dedicate the whole day to bonding with your sister, and no one else. Due to the fact that we live on opposite sides of the country, my sister and I thought it would be a good way to ensure that we never felt neglected when we get to visit each other. However, our mother and her sister stole our tradition and decided to expand from sister day to "two weeks with my sister." They went to France. My sister stayed working too many hours in California, and I stayed in Florida, attending class 8 hours every other day. They win.
The only other time my mom went on an international vacation, I was ten. I cried every day, because she took my sister, and I was stuck home with my dad. Every body knows that moms just "get" you better.
You never realize how much you talk to someone, until you don't talk to them. However, this time I didn't cry (maybe once). Just kidding. In an effort to grow up and become independent, I wrote her a blurb of all the funny things I had to tell her while she was gone.
Two weeks apart and my life becomes a sitcom waiting to be picked up by Tina Fey.
Besides the blurbs, I had time to reflect on how important she really is to me, and basically essential for my day-to-day life.
I’ve often heard people say, “you don’t know what you got til it’s gone,” but these two weeks you were on vacation, I definitely felt the void. Who authorized you to go to France, and leave me here?
You are the reason I am a writer today. You are the reason I spend hours on end researching, typing and cramping, rewriting and reworking articles. You are the reason I work so hard. You are the reason I am so in love with what I do everyday.
Although you are the reason I am a writer, I somehow find myself at a loss for words, when I’m asked to describe what you mean to me.
You are my motivation, role model, mother, and mainly my best friend.
Mom, I’m in awe of you everyday. Your humor and “laugh at life attitude” automatically makes me feel safe when I’m around you. Your cackley laugh is so loud that I can hear it up the stairs, even when my door is shut, and it's contagious. You are the only person who knows how to make me feel better when I am upset. Your determination to get what you want when you want it, inspired Alex and I to do the same in our lives.
I couldn’t be more grateful for the stubborn Italian sass passed down from nanny to you to me.
You have saved my life countless times. When no one else had the patience to understand, you always did. From my eighth grade “boy who cried wolf” mid-life crisis, where I couldn’t decide what to do with my life, and you told me to pick up a pen. From my two week bouts of depression, where I couldn’t find a reason to get out of my bed, you gave me the hope. To my eight month bout of depression, you never gave up on me.
There is not a day that has passed that I am not grateful to have you in my life. Sometimes while walking around campus, I thank God you pushed me so hard during the application process, even though I swore I was too stupid to settle in school.
When I see other people’s parents I feel so lucky I have you, and I feel sad for them that they don’t.
Thank you for accepting all of my phone calls, even though sometimes they can be up to eight per day. Thank you for constantly motivating me to run after my dreams, even though I quit the track team (twice). Thank you for still loving me when I ask you, "this or that" and when you say "this," I always pick "that." Thank you for loving me, even though at times I make that an extremely difficult task.
If and when they invent an award for the most patient mother dealing with a stubborn child, you will win for sure.
Thank you for never losing faith in me. I hope I continue to make you proud, and less stressed. But, we'll see how that goes.
Mom, please stop going on vacation without me.