I love this picture of my Mom. I guess some writer and photographer for a magazine had come to our house after Dad died to do an article on our family. Single mother raising six…now that’s a good story. Mom says after doing the interview she instantly regretted it. To her relief they never ran the article (maybe we weren’t dramatic enough) but we did end up with some great photos.
When I see this picture of Mom I feel like it captures a vulnerability we didn’t see too often as kids. She was always in control. She always seemed to know exactly what she was doing. I never worried when I was with her.
She’s probably thinking about the dog poop in the basement in this picture…or watching a child unsuccessfully tie his or her shoes…but I like to think she’s reflecting on life…where she’s going…where she’s been.
I love my Mom.
I love my Mom because no matter how crappy a hand I am dealt she keeps me from falling into an abyss of deep depression by reminding me, that no matter what I’ve done. No matter who I’ve hurt. No matter who is angry with me and regardless of the mistakes I have made…I am good. I come from good people. I am raising good children and I am married to a good man. With those gentle reminders and her nod of support I feel it’s safe to pull myself together again.
Sometimes you just need to hear it from your mom…even when you are one.