For Mom

I believe if the sun had a face, it would look identical to my mother’s:

Bright and unmistakable, a constant light in my life, unwavering and abiding.

Your voice is the rays, blazing and resounding,

And though we may mock you for it,

I will always be grateful for how confident and indisputable it is because I can always find you in a crowd,

And I can still hear it comforting me even when I am across the world. 

I pick myself up after my hardest days and know that I am my mother’s daughter.

I wipe the tears from my cheeks and face the world, knowing that despite all my troubles and tribulations, I will be okay,

Because I am my mother’s daughter. 

When I look in the mirror and feel beautiful, it is not my face staring back at me but yours, 

Because I am my mother’s daughter. 

They say I am brilliant, they celebrate my successes, and I do not take any credit. Instead, I say it’s 

Because I am mother’s daughter. 

You always remind us of what it means to love and to be loved,

And I watched you rip apart your body and soul, hands bloodied, 

To give us a life that you have always dreamed of.

And for that, I will spend my whole life trying to mirror the boundless devotion you have shown us,

Back to you, and back to the rest of the world. 

You gave me your heart when mine fell apart,

And your eyes so I can see the best in the worst. 

You have accepted my cold shoulders, burdened my harsh words, and made peace with my anger. 

You’ve pardoned my mistakes, excused my temper, and accepted every fist and kick I’ve thrown your way without a word. 

Your love and your patience defy all explanation, and because of that, 

I carry you in my smile, in my hugs, in my laughter.

You are in every hand I hold and in every love letter I write. 

My mother is the dew on the grass on an early summer morning, the smell of salt in the air as you drive oceanside, the cup of hot chocolate that warms your frozen fingers after playing in the snow on a cold winter day. 

She is my favorite book, the song I play on repeat, the clean sheets I climb into after a long night. 

She is the sound of the doorbell ringing in my childhood house, the voices of violins playing in harmony, and the laughter echoing from the dining room table.

She is the star that fell from the sky, and I pray to God that He will never take her back. 

She is my first and last home.

• Happy Mother’s Day. I celebrate you every day.