I love my mom! It's as simple as that.
She is quirky and funny, opinionated and strong, stubborn and vulnerable. She is not perfect but she is lovely. We have had our hard times. My uncle, her youngest brother, says this about her: "She loves you and she is a good sister to me even though I give her all kind of crap. Sometimes you need a rock in the storm and that is her."
That's a woman I don't mind being like. My ability to stand strong in my faith is a gift my mother taught me, along with many other things, like jumping in leaves and a love of books and knowledge. One of my favorite things in the world is to travel with her, specifically cross country or long distances. Sometimes i reach across the console and hold her hand. Yes, I still hold my mom's hand. It's my favorite fact about myself.
Her commentary in life is one of the things that makes me laugh even when that storm comes (trust me, in our family the storms come often). I call them little ditties. Some nights they just roll off her tongue. I start to laugh and then she starts to laugh and it keeps going until we are both holding our sides and tears are running down our faces.
Tonight, it started when she asked me a question I had just answered. When I reminded her of this, her answer was
"I can't remember. I probably have it written down somewhere. I just need to find it." For some reason, this caught me by funny. I tell my mom when this happens that I am going to put her ditty on twitter. She hates this but then she corrects my spelling and tells me what she said again so I can remember it correctly. We laugh that she says she doesn't want me to post but will tell me what to say. Once that starts, we are off. She tells me "I am going to leave you by the side of the road with a sign that says Will twitter for free." More laughing and more bantering. What finally sends us into the belly laughs is her finally ditty and declaration: "I need to go to the bathroom when we get home, so I get the downstairs bathroom." I tell her you just called "Dips on a bathroom." She tells me "Yep when you get old, you don't call shotgun. You call dips on the good bathroom."
Belly laughs are good for the soul.
