A Letter To My Mother


As a kid, there’s not a lot that can excite us as much as a swing can. Sure there are electronics and gadgets that modern children feel they can not live without, but growing up as a child without such luxuries as iPhones and Leap Frogs, a swing was pretty much as good as it got. Think about it: the incredible highs where you felt like your sweaty little legs could literally lift off the rubber bottom–where you felt like if you let go of the chain, nothing but gravity would stop you from soaring into the expanse of space. And just as you thought you actually would take flight, the inevitable stomach drop would start and you’d come plummeting back down to Earth. With tiny fists grasping onto that chain for dear life, we–for a spit second–wondered why we loved this silly contraption in the first place. But the beauty of a swing is that, not matter how bad the fall, we eventually start the upward rise to euphoria which made the stomach-churning all worth it.

Life is sort of that way, isn’t it? We’re on a constant pendulum of highs and lows, never really settling into the comfortable medium where most of us wish we could live. I’ve got to say though, that the swing of life is made easier by the people we surround ourselves with. We need people to lift us up even higher in those moments of euphoria–someone to ride those highs with us, but also someone who is willing to take those low times in stride. Someone who, without fail, will be standing behind us pushing us out of our darkest moments. No one is as skilled in swing-pushing as a mother is.

You Mama, in particular, are terribly talented in this area. You have seen me during my highest highs and graciously (though you selflessly steered me there) have taken the back seat in every situation. You let me shine through some of life’s most incredible moments and done nothing but smile (and occasionally shed a tear). On the other hand, I’m not sure I would have made it through some of my darkest times without you. Be it breakups or moving away from my favorite place, you were there for me to hold my hand. And when I’d cried just about all the tears I could cry, there you were, hands on my back, swinging me into my next shining moment.

The relationship with a mother can be tricky. We as children feel like, no matter how old we are, we can make it through this thing they call life all by ourselves–like a big girl. But it’s not until I stop pumping my legs that I realize it’s easier to have you there with me to help me along. Why wouldn’t I want someone standing behind me that had been there before? Someone who had gone through almost every situation I had and came out standing? Why is it so hard for me to accept help from a mother who wants nothing but to impart her wisdom so I don’t make the same mistakes she did?

I’m not sure I have the answer to that question, but I’ll tell you this–I am incredibly lucky to have you behind me, no matter how high or low I get. Your hand on the small of my back is a constant reminder that I’m not alone, and that pretty soon, I’ll be at the peak of that pendulum in no time.

Happy Mothers Day Mom.

One response to “A Letter To My Mother

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