Love Beyond Memory
For many years, it was just my mom and me. To say we were connected at the hip would be an understatement. She drove me to every dance practice, choir rehearsal, youth group event, and friend’s sleepover. She never missed anything, all while working sometimes three jobs at once. She rubbed my back when my heart was broken through friendships or boys. She was there to pick me up the first weekend away at college when I was ailed by homesickness and convinced me to go back when I thought I wasn’t cut out for it. She brushed my hair back as I labored in the hospital and was there to kiss my forehead when I brought my baby boy into this world. She dropped everything when he was sick and I couldn’t afford to take a day off from school or work. She is a breast cancer survivor, single mother, the best maker of PB&Js, the kisser of my owies – literally as a child, and figuratively as I’ve grown older. She is the most incredible back scratcher, the listener of all my stories, my first phone...
