Mom's Turn

There are very few good pictures of me and my mom. This surprises me. I spend a great deal of time with her. She's an amazing person.

When I think of my her, I think of my youth. I remember being carried at bike races. I recall resting my head against her chest, and listening to her voice as she bellowed about incorrect number placement or announced the on-deck rider without a megaphone. The sound was loud, but for me it was reassuring. No matter what was going on, my mom would pick me up if I needed it.

My mom is always trying to make things easier on me. She's there to assist me, whether I need it or not. I know I can call her for anything, whether it's what aisle the Texas Toast is in, or how to do my taxes. She listens when I complain about things that don't matter, and she indulges my dork-moments.

There are times when I wish I could shrink back into my 5-year old body, and crawl into her arms, because I know she'd make the bad world go away for a little bit. I'd listen to her voice echo in her chest, and know that everything will be alright. I think letting go of my mom's hand is the part of growing up that's been hardest for me.

She's the first person I think of whenever I need help, and I'm most excited to share my stories with her. She's my greatest advocate, and I'd be lost without her.