Thirty-two years ago today I arrived... fashionably late.
(Oh my goodness! I JUST realized that I was BORN a procrastinator!)
My mom may not consider the two extra weeks
I took that fashionable,
nor the emergency c-section,
but I've never heard her complain.
And I've ALWAYS tried to be on time for her ever since!
(Seriously, you can ask my husband,
she's the only person that I'd go
"mascara-lip gloss only/hair in a bun"
for JUST to be on time.)
So, I didn't get her punctuality gene,
but I did get her smile,
including her straight teeth.
She passed on her confidence
and her encouraging words
have molded and shaped me continually.
I could sell a ketchup popsicle to a
woman wearing white gloves
because of her
(yeah... our long line of sales genes ARE that good),
and can strike up a conversation
with just about anyone,
also because of her.
Mom,
I most certainly do not share this enough,
I know, I know...
but I do love you so much and
am so thankful for you
(and your crazy ways).
I wish I could be with you as you read this,
so I could laugh as you cry and wave me to look the other way.
It makes me smile just thinking about it
(also knowing that I'd do the exact same thing,
because I feel as though I received a double whammy
in the ole' emotions department,
getting that from both you and Dad).
Oh, yes, and speaking of Dad...
though my mom claims I was perfect in every way,
he seemed to know different right from the start
as he tirelessly rocked me or
drove around the neighborhood until I fell asleep
(however, he can't remember what happened two days ago,
so obviously I have to go with my mom on this one),
but then again he's always known me just as I am.
He looks at me as though I have a glass head
and knows every thought I think,
and then laughs with me as our imaginations take over...
because he's definitely the one that fed, watered, and grew
my imagination.
I'd say a good third of the songs in my itunes
are from the 70's because that's what we've listened to
on every road trip he's taken me on.
Because of him,
I know that sacrifice is worth it;
suffering brings joy;
and love never fails.
Dad,
there are times that I think of you
and my heart just about busts
because of the love I feel for you.
I could never thank you for all the tears
you've shed with me and for me;
for all the loving embraces;
for taking me to dinner every Saturday night for a good year
as my 21 year-old self figured some things out;
for just loving me so perfectly.
And even if I could find a way,
you'd just say, "Okay."
rather than "You're welcome."...
because that's just your way.
So, today I give thanks
to the One who knit me together,
the Writer of my days,
for writing out my 32 years thus far
and placing me in the care of these
perfectly wonderful imperfect people.
