On Saturday, at the tail end of one of the worst days in what has been a year full of bad days, my mom opened her arms and beckoned me in for a hug, just like she used to do when I was a kid. Obediently, I stepped into the embrace and hugged her tight. With my boots on, I towered over her and her permed hair tickled my nose.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she said.
I tightened my arms around her and silent tears started to slide down my cheeks. There were so many things I wanted to say, but my throat was too tight. Because, how many times have I thought the same thing about her?
My mom is my rock. Where my dad is the big softy under a hard as nails exterior, my mother is the opposite. She is all kindness, compassion, comfort, warmth and love – the very epitome of home and motherhood. But at her core is pure steel – unbending, unbreakable steel. She is without a doubt one of the strongest women I know. Not to mention clever, kind and a whole heck of a lot of fun.
I treasure the time we spend together, whether it’s out golfing, on one of our frequent shopping excursions, or curled up watching old movies. Because she’s not “just” my mother, she’s also my best friend.
Oh, don’t get me wrong. There was a time as a teenager when I may have felt differently. But, then, what mother-daughter relationship is without strife during those exceedingly difficult teen years?..