I first posted this in 2011.
I had planned on revising it a little, so I added a few photos.
I found I could not - could not - bring myself to changing the words to past tense.
so, I'm leaving it as it was.
It says all it needs to say, I think, except for one thing.
I miss you, Mom.
Happy Mother's Day
My Mom, Mary Hazel Messick Wilkinson, is my buddy. But. When I was growing up, she was my Mom - first and always. She figured I had enough friends, and her job was to be my mom; to teach me the things you don't learn from your friends. She did a great job. And, honestly, still doing a great job of it. She's quick to remind me, when I get too big for my britches, that she's the mother - and I am not ever to treat her any differently than that. She will fight that role reversal thing we all worry about tooth and nail - and as of right now she's winning. So, yes, she's my buddy - but she's still my Mom. The only thing I think she forgets is that she didn't actually give birth to Donald. She loves the guy every bit as much as if she did, and it works both ways, he loves her right back. She's sharp as a tack, cute, funny and a whole bunch of fun to hang out with.
Meet my Mom.
Meet my Mom.
"To describe my mother would be to write about a hurricane in its perfect power."
"Feelings of worth can flourish only in an atmosphere where individual differences are appreciated, mistakes are tolerated, communication is open, and rules are flexible -- the kind of atmosphere that is found in a nurturing family." ~ Virginia Satir