missing

It’s Mother’s Day.  All over the country, people are preparing to take their mother’s to brunch, or helping them do gardening, or visiting them in a nursing home, or leaving flowers at a grave.

Today, my mom is in New York, and I’m in Pennsylvania. I miss her.  It’s strange not to be with her today, whether it is a contrived Hallmark holiday or not.  When I realized I wasn’t going to be able to visit her this weekend, my mom told me it was okay, and that honoring her on one day of the year isn’t as important as honoring her every day. And I try to. But even though that may be the case, I still feel a sort of guilt that comes with leaving the nest.

So to my mother, who is a beautiful woman, who supports me in every way imaginable, who puts up with my late night phone calls when I complain about work, who has threatened to kill me if I ever share the pictures I took of her preparing the turkeys for Thanksgiving, who knows me better than anyone, who is my best friend, who takes me shopping for clothes for “back to school” even though I’m 31 and only work at a university (not attend one anymore), who resists the urge to correct the grammar on my blog, who I can’t imagine life with out, Happy Mother’s Day. I miss you.