I miss my mom

Sometimes in grade school, when my mom had to take me out of school for a doctors appointment we would go to the Ritz Carlton and eat cinnamon toast in the hotel restuarant.

And every September we'd shop for school supplies at this funny little general store in Westport.

She put up with me during my sassy years, and my teen drama years when I wasn't lovable to anyone, even myself. Growing up we didn't do a lot of traditional mother and daughter type things, although I do remember having matching sundresses which we wore maybe once or twice. She liked to garden, and I would help out relunctantly with the yard work if I got caught. We certainly didn't cook together, as we share the same aversion to actually preparing anything in the kitchen that requires more effort than punching start on the microwave. We would shop together though, and we both like to read. She's tidy and I'm hopelessly messy. And she never did teach me how to clean a bathroom correctly.

But it doesn't matter. It wasn't so much what my mom and I did together, or had in common, it was that she was always there. The times I messed up, or when I got in over my head she was there for me. It doesn't mean I didn't get in trouble; the woman can deliver a lecture that would make the Pope hang his head in shame. But the message was always "what you did was wrong, but you I always love."

And it was true, and it is still true today.

My mom is in Kansas, which is only a few states away to the right, but it seems very far away at the moment. Mothers day is a day for honoring your mother, but I wish she was here today for the very selfish reason that I miss her, and need to hear her say one more time "you messed up, but I still love you."