Happy 55th Birthday!

Dear Mom,

 In this letter,  I want you to know one thing…You are my mother.  It’s sounds simple maybe too simple, but  in those four words an epic story exists.  

YOU  On this day in 1961 the temperature was about 32 degrees.  I cannot tell you if there was snow or if it rained.  I cannot tell you if the sky was sunny or cloudy, but I can tell you that on this day in 1961 a mother was born.  My mother.  You were due on Christmas Eve, but your mother did not want a Christmas Baby so induction brought you a few days early.  You were put under the tree as a novelty, but that’s where we put precious presents.  You were also the baby of the family the youngest following behind always.  You were a busy girl full of curiosity. You struggled early with things that kids should not have to struggle with, but you endured.    You married young and became that mother you were born to be.  Not every girl is born a mother.  

ARE Thankfully I still have you in my life.  We have not been separated by arguments or disturbances, we have not been silenced by disagreements.  We are still mother and daughter.  I still get to hug you, kiss you, laugh with you and have a nice glass of vodka with you.  We just baked cookies last night together.  I visit you often and raid your fridge or help myself to a cup of coffee at your house.  We do argue and disagree and misunderstand and get hormonal with each other, but that is also because we are not the same.

MY   Other than having three siblings, no one gets to have you as their mother but me(us).  You have “mothered” other people who need it, but you are mine.  Sounds possessive, but really its a statement on the intangible binding that a mother has with her children and her children with her.  I can hold you and may have to as the years progress.  I can hug you, I can call you, I can visit you because you are mine.  You are mine to love, mine to talk to, mine to be with and nothing can change that forever.  When you were born you were mine and I was yours…it would just take 18 more year for you to find out whose mother you were.

MOTHER You are opinionated and spicy, feisty and loving.  You have kissed my boo boos and snapped me out of self loathing.  You taught me to bake, cook, and sew and you let me be who I am.  You taught me manners, self worth and you have encouraged me to be me.  You may not like what I always do or say, but in the end you do let me be the mother that I am.  You enjoy me being a mother and I know you love being a Grammy.  I hope the years continue to be good to you and to us.  That you always know that you have done well,  that I’m thankful for you and all that you have taught me so much.  

I am a mother now, I think I was also born a mother,  and it seems obvious because now I have five children, but being born as something doesn’t limit you.  You are a mother, but you are strong and sensitive, misunderstood and knowledgeable, you are independent and social-able.  You always have kisses and you love spending time with those you love.  I know that you want to be surrounded by your children always and you always will because you are a good mother and I’m thankful and proud that You are my mother.  

Fifty-five years ago you were born, and I’m so glad that you were born a mother.  Thank you for my life, thank you for being mine.

Happy Birthday!

Love,

Amanda