She is young at heart. Beautiful.
She used to carry me on her hip.
I quickly grew to be five inches taller than her.
She is an only child.
I am her seventh child of nine.
She is a grandmother to twenty-two.
Great-grandmother to one.
She is an artist.
Mom allowed me to get messy with paints, pastel chalk and fabric.
She allowed me to find my way.
Encouraged me to pursue my dreams. Still does.
She managed to find patience with me and all of my sassiness.
We’ve grown closer since I’ve become a mother.
I’m beginning to come to an understanding.
I still wonder how she did it.
So glad she chose to be a mother.
Thanks Mom. I love you.