I am convinced that there is some truth to the theory that says the relationship between fathers and daughters and the relationship between mothers and sons are special. However, I am also convinced that every relationship between a child and his or her parent – which ever parent it may be – is unique and filled with special moments.

As the youngest daughter, I realize that I‘m close to my Dad – but I’m close to my mom too.

If I were to describe my Dad in a word picture, I would say he is a bunch of threads spread out in the tapestry of my life – sometimes his thread is quiet and blends in. At other times, the thread is bright and highlights the moment, the memory, the story. Explaining my mom is a bit different – partly because, for much of my life, she was a single mom. If my dad is the thread, my mom is the fabric of which my life is made.

While I often talk about my Dad in stories, my mom’s “stories” are the tales of everyday life. Do I have special memories of her? Yes, but many of them center around “Mom” moments – and I think she’ll be okay with that.

We liked to play Scrabble – often with my Aunt Rose. I rarely beat them, but when I did – I earned it! They made me sweat and I learned to love language by looking at little wooden tiles. My Aunt Rose, Uncle Ken, Mom and I sang together – and I loved it! I can still hear us singing “Feelin’ Fine” and a number of other southern gospel favorites.

Mom is generous with her time and her resources. She has a big heart. One of the couples in our church was having some problems – the husband left his wife. When Mom found out, she gathered a bag of groceries and on her way to work, stopped at their apartment, gave the wife some groceries and hug. She didn’t say anything other than, “Here – for you.”

I don’t really remember shopping with her – that wasn’t her thing, maybe because money was often tight. I do, however, remember a hot pink coat in elementary school and I remember shopping for that coat with her. (That coat may be the reason I hate pink today — however, I loved it back then.) When I was in 6^th grade, she bought me a pair of red, white, and blue Buster Brown shoes and I loved them – I’d wear them today!

When I was a teenager, she gave me permission to make hard decisions and let her take the blame. I remember the discussion around that idea. Her concern was that peer pressure is huge and she understood that. She explained that there were times when I would need to be brave and stand up for myself and what I believed. But she also thought that I could have more influence with my friends if I didn’t always draw lines between us by decisions that I made. I only remember using that gift two or three times. Once, I was at a teen party after church on a Sunday evening at the beginning of spring break. Some of the teens in our group were making decisions about who they wanted to be and what they wanted to do – I wasn’t comfortable with the direction they were headed. Several of the girls decided to have an impromptu slumber party after the teen party. All of the girls were invited and one of them was going to bring some “refreshments” that I wasn’t happy about. I told the girls I would have to check with my mom. One of them drove me home and I went inside. I said, “I’m going to ask you a question and I need you to say no.” She did and I was relieved.

Hot chocolate was her solution to a myriad of bad days. She makes the best hot chocolate in the world! She buys a gallon of chocolate milk – or she buys milk and a can of Hershey’s Chocolate Syrup, pours it into a heavy saucepan and slowly warms it — delicious when topped with marshmallow cream or a handful of marshmallows! When I had a bad day at school or at my job in the mall, Mom would make hot chocolate, we would talk, and my day would improve.

She worked hard and sent me to a private Christian High School during my sophomore year because I had just moved back to Albuquerque from small town Colorado and I was scared of going to a high school of 3000 students. As a nurse, she sent me to school even when I thought I was dying. But, there were a few rare days when I got up and asked if I could stay home for the day, “just because,” and she let me.

Mom wanted me back in a small high school with a good choir and other extra-curricular activities for my senior year, so we moved to southern New Mexico. In August, before school started, she and I went to Carlsbad to a place called President’s Park. As a 16 year old, I got to ride my first carousel. We watched swans on the river and I rode a paddle boat – again, my first one. Later, we sat in a restaurant there by the Park and while we drank root beer floats, the radio announced that Elvis Presley had died. Our special day became completely frozen in my memory partly because of that announcement.

I graduated from high school back in the day when most of the girls wore a white dress for graduation. In March before graduation, Mom took me to Main Place – the best store in town – and bought me a beautiful embroidered white blouse and skirt. The outfit was on layaway for two months, but I proudly wore it for graduation and many, many times in the days that followed.

My boys sometimes laugh about her Holly Hobby drinking glasses – I remind them of the story of how Mom and I would eat supper at Tastee Freeze and get a free Holly Hobby glass with each meal we purchased. A good memory – kind of ugly glasses. (I thought they were cute, once upon a time.)

Whenever our family would go to Mom’s, the boys would list all of the things that they knew Grandma would have available for them – Pepsi, chicken bites, mini pizzas, sundae cones, mini York’s Peppermint Patties, etc.

Everyday memories…. Memories of my mom who did a great job being my mom. Memories of a mom who probably had regrets and her own dreams that were unfulfilled. Memories of a mom who focused on being the best that she could be.

And she was the best.

She still is.