My Mom

I know that I do not stay on here as often as I should.  Myself and my poetry have been more absent than not.  I will say that it is not without good reason.  And the following is not only explanation but my release...

I would like to introduce you to my mom.  I am her only child.  My mom has stood by me through all of my ignorance.  She has accepted me as a troubled teen who insisted on permanently moving out on my own at 15, a pregnant teen, a married woman, a divorced woman, a struggling single mother, a lost soul, a big dreamer, an ever-changing career woman, and now, a non traditional college student.  My mother has no patience with ignorance, rudeness, that project she just has to finish but my mom has all the patience in the world for me, my son, her husband, extended family and anyone she has ever met who needed an ear.  My mom has made every effort to be involved in and explore many of the things that I have taken an interest in.  My mom does yoga with me.  My mom practices yoga breathing with me.  We are total yoga armatures but we try and we find our own interpretations of our centers.  My mom reads the insane number of books that I pass along to her after I have read them.  When I recently became fascinated with taking photos, my mom drove me all over the state for no other reason than to allow me to look, without having to drive, for those shots that I just had to capture.  When I decided I wanted to hunt for old fashioned tin signs for my kitchen, my mom went on the antique shop hunt with me trying to find just exactly the signs I wanted.  When my humor columns are published in the local newspaper, my mom is clipping them and saving them.  I am studying Spanish in college.  Mom is occassionally working with Rosetta Stone for no other reason than to understand the difficulty of learning a new language and trying to speak a bit with me.  My mom takes out ads in the local newspaper when I star in a community play, make the dean's list, am accepted in a national honor society.  My mom goes on vacations with me when I ask.  I am an Army Mom and I am insanely proud of that and now my mom is an Army Nana (grandma) and as insanely proud as I am.  My mom fascinates everyone she meets.  My mom puts others needs before her own.  When I'm taking 15 credit hours in college, running to honor society service projects and trying to keep track of my Army son, my mom is sneaking into my house and cleaning and doing laundry for me because, "You need a little help.  You are working hard and this will save you time to relax this weekend".  My mom is an optimist, an extroverted introvert, an artistic soul, and my biggest fan.  And now, my mom is the victim of cancer.  Now, my mom is fighting the battle of her life.  Now, my mom does not know what her options are, what her prognosis is, how much time she may or may not have left on this Earth between all the surgeries, tests, CAT scans, PET scans and the list goes on.  She will know soon ALL of what she is dealing with and during this time...I will save all of her get well cards, save all the copies of her test results, aim my camera at her just a little more often.  When chemo comes, if she loses her hair, I have made a pact with my mom that I will shave my head and we will share wigs and occasionally proudly sport our G.I. Jane Do's all around town.

This world has been a better place for having my mom trod upon it's soil and I only hope that she will continue to honor us all with her presence.