I have decided to begin writing a series of blogs on people who have touched my life, had an impact on me, or generally mean a great deal to me. Through this sort of experimental blogging, I intend to build and maintain a deeper appreciation for those around me, as well as allow people to see just how much they matter. Without further ado, my first blog on the subject:
It isn’t often one lives their life with a certain, stagnant view on an issue or person, only for it to make a complete turnaround in just a few short weeks. For this reason, I am writing a blog on my experience with this phenomenon some call “wising up.”
My whole life, I have had something special in the way of my relationship with my father. He and I just click-we seem to have the same reasoning mechanism, and tend to agree on any issue presented to us. We often text or call each other at the same time, specifically to tell each other the exact same thing. You may think, after reading this paragraph, that this is a blog about my father and how amazing he is. Though I could write a year’s worth of blogs on that topic, it is not what I am here to do today. Rather, I would like to tell you about my mom, Tina.
For as long as I can remember, my relationship with my mom has been slightly strained. We have always butted heads on so many ideas, issues, and experiences, and just don’t seem to “get” each other very well. We have never communicated in the best way, which led to exasperation and frustration on both sides. I’ve had a sort of skewed view on my mom for years-though I loved her, I often mused that there existed a sort of ceiling we would never manage to break through in our relationship. In essence, I felt that we were capable of, at the very most, tolerating each other. Yes, love still existed, but in the almost required, bare-bones familial sense, and not much more, I felt.
Recently, all this has changed. I don’t know how exactly it started, but I do know it was little things, at first. I realized, as I was cleaning my house here at school, that I never saw my mom do a lot of the chores that are necessary to keep a house maintained, yet they always seemed to be done. This debunked my juvenile notion that my mother never did any work. I called my father about it, and he noted that my mom would often stay up very late doing such tasks, and she really worked harder than we gave her credit for. This moved on to other realizations. My parents came up for my senior pinning ceremony, and my mom just struck me as such a giving person. When I told her I liked her eyeliner, she handed me the tube and insisted I take it…she has done this countless times over the years, and I just fail to take note of the consistency with which she gives of herself so much. I’m beginning to see, and it’s truly overwhelming. When I call for a recipe, she stays on the phone for 15 minutes giving me step-by-step instructions. When she found I was struggling financially, she sent money along, without being asked or anything. Many people don’t know this, but my mother also risked her life for me when I was two years old by diving into a pond to save me from drowning-she couldn’t swim. There are so many ways which my mom helps me out, and I can’t believe I have been so blessed.
The measure of a friend is not how much they do for you, but rather the place you hold in their heart. The measure of a mother is exactly the same. I have been blessed to have not only an incredible, encouraging, loving mother in the woman who is Tina Devereaux, but also an incredible friend. Throughout my life, I never would have expected to come to this conclusion, but I am so glad I have. I love you, Mama.
