I Did It Mom!
Readers, I know I know, Mother’s day was over 2 weeks ago. But as I drove home from my Mom’s house on Mother’s Day after taking her out to dinner, I felt overcome with the need to thank her. I do thank her in person of course, but our personal interactions are, let’s say, more complicated.
So I set out to write a thank you tribute. Then it got lost in a technological meltdown. So I wrote it again. A late thanks to my Mom is probably ‘appropros’ for me, but something I’m striving to be more in the moment with.
So here’s to my Mom, and Mom’s everywhere. We love you.
Can you believe this? I’ve done it. I think I’m kind of set for life.
Yep, I kind of can’t believe it either. I know, we didn’t have too much when I was growing up, but you and Dad made ends meet. You knew that public schools in a city like Baltimore would be assured failure, so you sent me elsewhere, even though you couldn’t afford it. It was a sacrifice.
And here I am – the first person in the family to graduate college, because of you! Where would I be without you?
I did some really stupid shit. I was far from an angel.
Remember when me and the Libertino boys almost set the woods on fire? How about that time I came home drunk and collapsed in the backyard, throwing up? Or the times we were chased by the cops, for doing things I still really don’t want to tell you.
The schoolyard fights, the sketchy friends, the sketchier girlfriends. You somehow knew when to tighten the vice grip on my B.S., and when to let go.
You made sure I wasn’t spoiled, and that I earned it. You nurtured, but dished out tough love too.
I had no clue then, but I see it now. How did you know?
My success grew from the seeds you planted. Damn, look at me Mom, I might be rich! Can you believe it!
Our little family was always the underdog. Nothing seemed to go our way. But all that time I was screwing up and failing, I was taking notes too.
I was adjusting the rudder, using the GPS coordinates you gave me. And shit, it worked!
I don’t have everything figured out for sure, far from it. But I have money figured out, and that’s freeing me up to tackle the rest.
I don’t even have to work anymore if I don’t want – can you believe that!? The concept of not having to work must be alien to you. You were born in 1929, the year everything changed for America. You grew up with little.
But you taught me to learn from that, and to make my destiny different. For that, I am eternally grateful.
I have more than I’ll ever need, and lots of life left to enjoy it and do good. I wish I could use what I’ve made to repay you, but I know you wouldn’t accept it anyway. Your pride in what I’ve accomplished shows, and is enough for you.
You have enough, and I have enough. And there’s no better place to be.