Since Mother’s Day is coming up, I thought it would be a good time to write about my mom.
I can honestly say that without my mom, I would never have become a writer. Books were a constant in our home. She read to me every day until I could read to myself. She took us to the library every week. And most of all, she read books herself, making time to read a priority. Literature mattered. I learned that a well-written novel can change a life, and one life can change the world.
When I got older, she always encouraged my creativity. She would read every stupid story I cobbled together and and then praise it like it was a contender for the Pulitzer. No matter how busy she was, she always had time to dissect and analyze books we’d read or movies we’d watched.
Above all, she made me feel like I mattered. Mom would tell me specifically the things that made me special. She never missed an opportunity to buoy me up and strengthen me. My weaknesses weren’t failures, just areas for growth. I always knew that no matter what, no matter how, she believed I would do amazing things.
As I grow older, she has only grown more essential in my life. She comes over every day to help me with the kids so I can have time to write and read and pursue my passions. Her patience and love are endless.
Can I ever become a mother like her? I don’t know. But I do know that I am blessed to have such an amazing role model to learn from.