I was in the eighth grade. My English teacher asked us to write an essay about our hero. Some kids chose the president, some chose athletes and some chose musicians.
I chose my mom.
My mom was, and still is, my hero.
I have never been able to express to her exactly how much I love her, how much I adore her, how much I want her to live forever.
So, I'll give it a try now.
Thank you for giving me life. Thank you for nursing me every two hours. Thank you for teaching me how to walk, talk and love. Thank you for staying home with me. It was a decision that I know you struggled with when Carrie was born, and I cannot tell you how much I cherish that time I got to spend with you.
Thank you for understanding me, even when I was 16 and hormonal. Even when I was 25 and hormonal. Even last week when I was hormonal.
Thank you for showing me what it means to be a good mother. Not everyone has that opportunity.
Thank you for loving my babies as much as I do. When I watch you with them, I get a glimpse of what it must have been like with you and me. I see how much patience you have. I see how much love you have. And every time I watch it, I think how incredibly lucky I was to be born to you.
Thank you for driving two hours every week to help me with the girls. I cannot begin to express my gratitude for the laundry, dishes and trash that you help with. And I cannot begin to express my gratitude for the bond that you are creating with the girls. But on top of all of that, thank you for letting me spend time with you. Yes, I'm a wife, a mother, a sister, but I'm still a daughter. A daughter who misses and loves her mom, and every once in awhile still wishes she was pulling weeds with her in the garden.
Thank you for being you.