my mama bear

I remember the day we fought over eye-liner. 

I was a freshman from a small town in a huge high school, trying to blend in. My eyebrows were bushy, I hid behind giant hoodies and I just wanted to wear eye-liner, because not wearing it made me stick out like a sore thumb. And you refused, point blank, to let me wear eye-liner until I turned sixteen. I can't remember being more mad at you, or hating anyone else in the world then I thought I hated you at that moment. I was convinced you didn't understand, that you were out to ruin my life and that you couldn't possibly love me.

A year and half later, you stood by me in the hair-dye isle of wal-mart as we decided together that my hair should go out in a fire-engine red. You stayed up late with me that night and helped me color my hair so I could go to my last day of school for the rest of the year, determined to fight. You stood by my chair in the hair dressers three weeks later while my vivacious hair-dresser shaved off the dreds you had paid 80 dollars to put in. And then you took my best friend and I shoe shopping, and told me it was okay to rock my hat, because my head really was beautiful.

That year still is so foggy in my mind. I have snippits of being so sick that I could barely function, to watching scary movies while hyped up on anti-nasuea meds, to sitting in the waiting room for long periods of time while we waited to hear if the hospital had room for my treatment. I remember breaking down when I couldn't make it to my last band concert of the year; and when I was so lonely and felt so forgotten by everyone else in the world on day 12 of one of the hospital stays. I remember when I found out that Emily passed away and I had slept through it all, but you were awake and listened to the noises in the hallway of our floor. I remember the mouth sores and the four months of being pushed in a wheel chair and the 3rd degree sunburn that I got from band camp. But the thing I remember the most is you, always being there. You never left my side. You sacrificed so much in order to spend every night sleeping by my hospital bed in that horrid chair; you would wait outside the door to get my food, because the sight of the hospital plates made me sick and you would walk to the food court three times a day to get me those italian subs that I randomly craved during a methotrexate infusion. And through the very worst times; you told me to pull up my bootstraps and kept me going. When I was falling apart, I knew I could lean on you. Giving up was never an option because you were my mom. 

And now, I'm making my dreams come true and you stand behind me while I work on them. I'm still fighting to overcome everything placed in my way, and at the end of the day, I can still lean on you because you are my Mom and you have never let me down. You've taught me to stand strong against all opposition, and how to appreciate everything and everyone around me. You've taught me how to 'pull-up my bootstraps' and face each coming challenge with courage and determination. You've taught me how to be silly and how it's okay to be myself. I want to be like you when I grow up; and even if I can be half of the woman you are, I'll be lucky. 

I'm glad we don't fight over eye-liner anymore, and that we spend out time trying to learn French together and laughing at how pathetic we are at it. I don't hate you, Mom. You're my best friend. Thank you for everything you have done and continue to do for me.

I love you, Mom.

Happy Mummy's Day.