Friday, May 7, 2010

On Being a Daughter


Lately, I’ve written a lot about being a mother and a grandmother. Since Sunday is Mother’s Day, I figured I’d turn the other way and share my thoughts about being a daughter. Since Mom isn’t on facebook and she doesn’t usually cruise the internet looking for my blog or anything else, I figure I’m safe from having her see anything early.

So here goes. To me, being a daughter means all of this:

It means I grew up knowing I was safe and had all I needed.

It means I had the encouragement to pursue anything I wanted to do, and to be anything I wanted to be.

It means that even when I became an adult, I knew I had a place to go, a listening ear, and a shoulder to cry on.

It means that when I found my Prince Charming, I had a celebration fit for a princess.

It means that when I became a mother, there was someone who understood all I went through.

It means my kids had someone to call when they felt their mother was mean.

It means I have someone to measure myself against, when I want to kick back and settle for what I am.

It means now that the love of her life is gone, I can be there to assist her when she is lost, afraid, or unsure of herself.

It means that no matter what I do, I’ll never be able to fill her shoes. She’s one of a kind.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. Love you lots!

Goals updates:

Health: eating better, but the battery on my scale died so I don't know if it's doing any good.

Writing: Other than this blog entry and the minutes for my writers’ group meeting, not much writing done.

Creativity: I finally got around to making a quilt (pictured above) out of some fabric I bought in Fremont over a year ago. I had enough to make a matching pillow. I just need to tie and close up the quilt, and close up the bottom of the pillow, and then my Mother’s Day gift is done! Of course, I’ll probably be closing up the pillow as my mom pulls into my driveway on Sunday morning.

1 comment:

  1. I remember that fabric! You did an awesome job, and your mom is going to love it.

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