Happy Mother's Day

My mother is a worrier. I'm 36 years old and she's still concerned about my safety and well-being as if I lived under her roof. As if nothing has changed. As if I'm not grown up with kids of my own. It's a great relief, that kind of care. A great relief to know that there is one person out there on whom you can rely on to be a constant source of comfort. Any age, any issue--that kind of love is secure. I'm 36 years old and I still find myself reverting to that childlike phenomenon of feeling safe in that love. It's the safety of tears. When I was young and hurt I'd go to her and cry. Now I'm grown and when I hurt she's the first person I call. I can vent and cry and question and be. My mother is a worrier, which means she is a great reliever, comforter, I-got-your-back-and-why-can't-everyone-get-along person. Interesting how closely the word worrier resembles warrior. That's what our mothers are, really. Happy Mother's Day to all you warriors out there--and to mine. I love you!