Mom

You know how people say they “love someone so much it hurts”?

That’s how I feel about my mom.

My mom, who I always saw as the disciplinarian of our family, the rule maker, the fun breaker, the one I swore I’d never be like when I was a petulant teenager, and later, a petulant 20-something.

My mom, who asks questions and rarely waits for answers.

My mom, who needs to get everything done, in her way, in her time, despite being tired (and then complains about the fact that she always has to do everything herself and doesn’t have enough hours in the day to do them).

My mom, who often sees herself as weak and dependent, but is steadier and stronger than anyone else in the family.

My mom, who keeps the faith, despite everything that has befallen her.

My mom, who laughs at the silliest things, and hums to herself without noticing.

My mom, who loves me so much that it feels suffocating when she catches me at my worst.

My heart aches and breaks to think of all of the time I haven’t spent with her.

My heart feels hollow and beyond repair when I imagine living life without her.

I know there is no one on this earth, now or ever, who will love me as unconditionally as she does.

And it’s only now, as I see her age in front of me, that I realize I’ve felt the same way this entire time.