a very nice lady.

Yesterday was mother's day.

I have this rocking chair. I've come to realize that it's actually not that comfortable, which impresses me even more that my mother managed to stay in it for hours, rocking me to sleep and back again. I still love to rock, although her and I would probably have a harder time fitting in it together these days.

When I was growing up, I would hear people gossip about neighbors and friends: "She's becoming her mother." I figured out by the gestures of faux-gagging that this was not a good thing. I never understood why.

My first year in high school, she made me a dress for the homecoming dance that I wore grudgingly, whining all the time that it looked homemade. Now, weekly I make routine phone calls, shouting at the receiver about my adoration and love for homemade stuff this and homemade stuff that.

(yes, i do believe that my t-shirt is not only tucked in,
but also puffed out, over the jeans)

A few years ago, I broke a vase that she had given me as a gift. And when I say broke, I really mean shattered. Into thousands of little pieces. I left home for a while and when I came back, there it was, sitting there in one piece.

I firmly believe that mothers can develop these intuitive skills after having a kid -- thankfully, with my own mother, those skills included knowing the secret remedies to remove any stain known to human kind and having the patience, compassion and love to painstakingly put back together something that had been broken, vases included.

Thanks, mom.