From thirteen to thirty (years of age), we gripe about our mothers. It seems that they question our whereabouts, harp about our choices, preach the benediction of their ways…nag. Hang onto her words. Their truth will come around…when you’re wise enough to understand.
Mine isn’t around to tell her how I appreciate her 120-hour weeks, walking the floor when I missed curfew, teaching honesty, empathy, and compassion…just being there with her protective love. Make sure that yours knows.
To ALL Mothers everywhere: Happy Mother’s Day! There’s no other like you.