Happy Mother's Day, moms!
When my mother was my age, she had a two year old child and was two years away from her first divorce. She had long, straight brown hair, a twisty-mouth sense of humor, and a heartfelt love of rock-n-roll.
They've put up with a lot from me over the years, she and my stepmother. They've nodded and smiled at my freakish stance on not brushing my hair when I was seven, nodded and smiled while I plotted a million ways to leave Florida, nodded and smiled when I refused to use silverware. They have never tried to stop me from doing the things I wanted to do, and they've let me grow in whichever directions I choose. I give them a lot of grief for the choices that they've made, but I seldom allow for the fact that they were their choices to make.
And I remember her laughing like a kid, her hair fanning around me to make a curtain between myself and the rest of the world. I remember her haircuts, her boyfriends, her silly mistakes and her sillier jokes. I remember watching from corners while she laughed with men that weren't my father, and I remember knowing even then that although she was my mother she was herself too. She is many things that I will never know about.
I talk to my mother, these days, once or twice a week, and to my stepmother a few times a month. We are friends. And that's lucky, because as we grow up most people realize that their parents are just nice people. It has taken a lot of work and a lot of forgiving, but my mother is also my friend.
Thanks to everyone that came by last night! It means a lot to have you guys around. (Bonus points to Manuel for bringing along the hook and Elvis glasses, and to Brandon for coming to drink tequila in a house full of strangers. Pictures by Dayment have been posted.)
Update: Looks like I have my own Flickr tag.
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