Mother’s Day

A mother is a person who seeing there are only four pieces of pie for five people, promptly announces she never did care for pie.  ~Tenneva Jordan

I have a wonderful Mom. She is loving and kind and soft and huggable and always smells good. She is smart and knows lots of stupid facts and even to this day shelters me from things that she is afraid will harm me. She is the perfect woman. It’s no wonder I am gay – no girl could ever compare to my Mom. These are some things that she has done, just a small sampling, that are some prime examples of how outstanding she is.

When Sister Kristin and I would have a snow day off from school and be out all morning sledding, my mother always had homemade cocoa ready for us when we got inside (I talked a little about this here). Well, after we had our cocoa and had settled into soft jammies my mother would start a fire in the fireplace in our living room and spread a big old blue quilt on the floor. She would help us make strawberry herbal tea and would crack open a box of cheez-its, and we would lay on the floor and listen to the record of “Strawberry Shortcake and the Winter that Would Not End” and gorge ourselves on tea and cheese crackers.

My mother, being like most mothers, felt strongly that Sister Kristin and I shouldn’t step one foot in the house while the sun was up, all summer long. However, one summer we were suffering through an incredible hot spell, and we complained that there wasn’t much to do that wouldn’t give us instant sunstroke. Mom grabbed the sprinkler from the yard, climbed our apple tree, and stuck the sprinkler in the top branches of the tree, facing down. Well, when she turned the sprinkler on, the water hit each and every leaf and it rained inside the tree. My sister and I would take turns swinging on our rope swing or just sitting on branches, being blissfully cool.

 When I was a little kid I had a very hard time learning to read. I just felt that my time could be better spent watching tv. Well, My Mom was not having any of that, so she started telling me little stories, about dinosaurs, or witches, or warriors, or science. When she found out that I liked fantasy stories she went to the library and got all the beginner books that she could about fantasy and borrowed them. Then, every single night of the week she took a half hour with me to sit on the living room couch and sound out the words in these books. And now, I am a voracious reader because of it.

When I came out to my parents I was sitting on the floor of the living room crying, and just blurted it out. “I am gay. I’m so sorry.” My mother paused, then got up from her seat and got on the floor with me and held me and cried and told me that it was going to be alright, and yes, of course she loved me. She always has, and she always will.

I love you, Mom.

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One Response to Mother’s Day

  1. Sabrina says:

    You know me, I’m not a crier. But the last paragraph made me tear up a bit. Way to go, Chris.

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