Yo, mama. [ 2006-05-14, 8:39 p.m. ]

The older I get and the more exposure I have to other people's family situations, the more grateful I am for my mom, who above everything else imparted to me a sense that I matter in this world, and that other people matter as well.
Thanks, Mom. Thanks also for the following:

Not killing me when I was 14.

When you got sick of people asking, telling them I got my red hair from the milkman.

Singing "Away in the Manger" to me every night.

Not killing me when I was 15.

Encouraging me to write.

Showing me you believed what you taught when you carpooled kids to my suburban LA school district from Watts during the 1960's. And holding me when I cried after seeing my beloved teacher picketing the arrival of those kids when it would have been easier, in some ways, to tell me she was a bad person.

Not killing me when at 17, I announced that I was leaving home.

Actually letting me go then, because you knew that I had to and making sure I had what I needed to make it on my own. And what I needed was the guidance of some wise and wonderful friends of yours who sheltered me at various stages of that journey.

And a bunch of other stuff. Like my nice rack.
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Happy Mother's Day to all the mothers of Diaryland!
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