Hug Your Mom

Go ahead. Do it now. I’ll wait. 

I was going to wait to post this until later in the week but I just don’t think this is something that should ever have to wait. 

Because yeah, Mother’s Day is a good time to celebrate your mom. Take her out to lunch, buy her flowers, generally take care of her. But you should be doing that everyday. Because growing up, it was everyday that she took care of you. 

Moms are so important. And before you jump on the comments section, fathers are important too. (Their day just isn’t this Sunday, that’s all). Moms make us laugh and wipe our tears and do stuff that we don’t want to do – just to help us out. (See vacuuming up spiders, making doctor’s appointments, and oh I don’t know, wiping our own butts.) 

They deserve more than a day, but if that’s all that you have to give them, then make it count. Hug them, and kiss them, and tell them that you love them. Even if it hasn’t been awhile since they heard it. Even if it’s been forever. 

And if you don’t have a mom, or your mom isn’t with you, or your mom’s just not a person you want in your life, hug a friend’s mom. I guarantee she’ll appreciate it.

Happy Birthday, Mom

When you have your own blog, it is only customary to highlight your mother on the day of her birth (because, you know, she sort of birthed you).

I could not think of a better way to honor you, mom, and thank you for the gift of life than to use my own gift. Most of the time, we act like two different people, and we don’t see eye to eye. But it is hard to see eye to eye with yourself sometimes, and I know we are very alike. (You may not understand the reference, but I am kind of your horcrux. Just trust me on this one.) We both remind each other to be the best that we can be time after time. And so without further ado…


The words do not come so quickly

this time

(and how could they?)

I’m condensing a lifetime in a few keystrokes

(you made a lifetime in a few brushstrokes)

and we were 

hoping that I would arrive into this world, swirling with so many stars

from captured constellations, made from galaxies you could pinch between your thumb and forefinger…

and then I arrived, all thumbs



You suddenly realized you would have to 

impart   imbue   improvise

your knowledge 

upon    in    through  

me. So, you started to knead out your ideals

you started to flatten your flaws beneath your knuckles

hoping to disguise them under the rug


other mothers have done the same

with varying degrees of success

and by success, I mean

prayers and pleas to the gods and goddesses that you would not

could not

pass down the bad with the good.

But like I said,

it does not work that way,

and I soaked it all up

like your bread in the milk 

before you squish it in the bowl.


As your daughter, I am familiar to you,

and so strangely cold,

that you

take off your rings 

as to not lose them when you

mold me.


And now, that my shoulders have grown to their full wingspan

(I had to stretch my skin to fit my own dimensions)

I find the star stuff that you wanted for me, in the beginning.

Because it was in you

the entire



I love you, Mom. Happy Birthday.