I know it's a bit strange me saying I celebrated mother's day when my mother is 300 miles away. And no, I'm not referring to my own parenthood. I gave Mom and Dad a long call today, but especially the Mom, since it's her day. Well, her culturally celebrated day. She never ceases to be a Mom for me on the 364 other days.
Dear Mom, you know how difficult it is to raise children. Well, I kind of do too, except you've been doing it for longer. I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for putting up with stilton-infested air vents, socks filled with raisins, and flambe gardenias (although in my defence I was only five and you should have kept the spirits on a different shelf). And I think, as today is Sunday, although I think about such things all through the week, that you've been much like my heavenly parent to me in many ways, and so has Dad, in forgiving me, and loving me unconditionally. I hate to remember the times I didn't love you back, especially when you gave me tough love. What I see now is that tough love is not only tough for kids, but also for parents. Maybe most for parents. And I want to thank you for the tough love, and also the non-tough love. I was going to say wimpy love, but that's definitely not the angle I'm going for. Thank you for being a Mom, and I want you to know that you never cease being my Mom, despite the fact that you and I are 300 miles apart (approximately 482.8 km). I want to thank you for bringing me up, but really most of all I want to thank you for bringing me to the Greatest Parent. I know he's your parent as well, and many others. In all the years I've known you I've known him, or at least have heard about him. And I am so glad that ultimately we share the same love. Love for him, which is love for each other too.
So Mom, happy Mother's Day.