The Person I Most Want to Be

Bent double and gasping. There are two situations where this would make sense, either I just ran a great distance or I am in the presence of my mother. It's not from fear or pain when my mother is involved (though for running, it is a different story). I'm gasping for air because laughing hard tends to knock the wind out of a person. One also often starts to fold in half when they are laughing hard. I don't know why, but it's true. Just watch the next person you see laughing, they will contract.

Some of my most vivid memories of my mother involve being bent double and gasping for air. When we are playing ping pong and it is clear that both of us has missed our callings--truly, we could have been table tennis champions (that is, if it's better to have the ball off the table more often than on it). When we spent a Sunday afternoon at my grandparents playing games and the same ridiculous joke gets us over and over. When a little sibling does something outrageous and only my Mom and I find it comical.

I also have a different kind of memory, though with the same basic formula. Each time we had to move Mom would hold me as I cried about losing friends. When I fell on top of my arm in the backyard and we thought it was broken, or when I did a flip on the trampoline and attempted to remove my nose with my knee, Mom was there while I was curled up and gasping as I cried.

I consider my Mom to be my best friend. A true friend accepts you for yourself, and Mom has been laughing at my jokes for nineteen years. If that's not love, I don't know what is.

I've heard that American teenage girls are supposed to fight with their mothers. They are supposed to lean on friends for support because that woman at home is totally ruining their lives. They are also supposed to rebel and become their own person, far removed from the backwards values of their mothers. Apparently, I am a failed American teenager. I listen to my Mom's CDs. I watch the same movies. I gained the love of reading I have from her. My Mom helped me to hone the skill of working hard to get something just right, but after a while being satisfied with something in its imperfections. I inherited my clumsiness, and my correspondingly abysmal driving skills. Both Mom and I hate to spend money if we can avoid it. Both Mom and I are addicted to chocolate (no matter how hard we try not to be).

There are a few things I have yet to learn from my Mom. These include the ability to be punctual (I had planned to post this on Mother's day...), the ability to wow little kids and still help them learn, the ability to cook without causing a natural disaster, and--most importantly--the ability to bring the Spirit into a home by a few simple gestures or words.

Someday I'm going to be a Mom (oy, don't remind me) and I am grateful that I have one shining example. My Mom has provided me with countless role models from Ruth (in the Bible) to Charly (by Jack Weyland) to Anne of Green Gables. But, I hope that she realizes that she has always been the person I most want to be. I love you, Mom.