As a child, I wanted to grow up to be just like my mother. She was beautiful, and smart and basically still a child herself, having me when she was only 20. I clung to her side, only feeling safe as long as I was within inches of her.
During my teenage years, I stubbornly wanted to be anything but. Like most teenagers and their mothers, I’m sure, we butted heads constantly. In my eyes she was no longer smart and kind, but carefully plotted out various ways to ruin my very existence. Hateful words were thrown at her with out a second thought and many years past before I looked at her as something other than my mortal enemy. I look back on those years and can’t help but cringe, hoping she doesn’t do the same.
Thankfully, with age comes wisdom. (10 years in a different state than her probably didn’t hurt either.) Now, with a family of my own, I feel much more like that little girl and want to be just like the woman who never stopped loving me. I’ve watched her run across marathon finish lines, pursue a nursing degree, selflessly care for her children throughout countless moves and trials, kneel down in prayer for support and guidance, and never stop supporting her family. We still have many differences, but I am inspired by her strength and hope that I inherited an once of what she has.