When I was about 10 or 11, I was denied something I cant remember - the chance to stay up late or watch a TV show or some other insignificant activity that felt terribly important at the time. So I ran into my room and slammed the door behind me and with all of the preteen rebellious rage I could muster, I picked up a pen and wrote I HATE MY MOM on the wall above my lightswitch. The ultimate revenge. But of course, it wasnt true, and never has been, and never will be. Because it is impossible to feel anything but love and gratitude to/for the woman who gave me life and then taught me to love it - who took me on adventures and placed books in my hands - who taught me compassion and patience and the power of wit - who was tough and gentle at all the right moments - who continues to listen and advise and support me throughout all of the various ups and downs - who I wouldnt be without. So happiest of birthdays to my mom, Alison McFall, who I adore and admire and dont hate at all. How lucky I am to be yours.
Posted on: Sat, 19 Apr 2014 14:45:55 +0000
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