Love Letter from A First Born
4 Nov
Today is my mom’s birthday and sharing her with you is a gift. In knowing her – Pierina – you’ll know more about me.
I am her, and yet? I’m not. I’m me infused by her love and caring.
She’ll cry when she reads this; I’ve cried writing it. Perhaps you’ll cry too.
It’s all good because it had to be said, from me to my mom who I call Mamalu, a letter of love on her birthday.
Let’s start with this photo, because really, who could resist that mischievous smile? I love that moment of joy and connection that shines through her eyes.
Can you see it?
I love this photo.
When I look at 
it, I am like the Grinch at the end of the story, caught in a moment of heart expanding surprise. It catches my breath every time, and delight oozes through me.
It shows a side of my mom that is always there, but restrained, sometimes covered up by the concerns of life.
I love to catch her off guard, by sharing in a way I know will make her laugh; not just any laugh though – it’s kind of a contagious-can’t-catch-your-breath kind of laugh that bursts out of her when I succeed in my goal.
- Like the time I announced I was joining a convent because I was sick of dating and needed a break. A dead silence followed before we both erupted in laughter at the image of ME in a convent!
- Or the time I wondered out loud if I could become gay because I was sick of dating and tired of looking for my one right guy. She assured me (before breaking into giggles) that gay couples had the same issues and that wasn’t the solution.
- Or the time I described a heated moment in the car on a road trip with Mark. A man, a woman, a car, directions needed…you KNOW that’s not going to end well, don’t you?
That last one, I wasn’t even trying to be funny, but somehow I touched a place in her that erupted in a moment of connection, laughter and love so strong I wished I could have reached through the phone to hug her.
My mom. I can say that even though my siblings claim ownership as well.
But here’s the thing they’ll never top…I had her first.
For four years I had her all to myself and sometimes I think I’ve been trying to get back to that time with her ever since.
Mostly I did that by showing how independant I was, that I didn’t need her (or anyone) and could survive pretty well on my own. Weird how I ever thought that would work. One year for my birthday she sent me a card and wrote that no matter how old I was, I would always be her first born, her baby. I laughed at the time, thinking “how sweet.”
Now? I get it , I really do; I will always be her baby.
And even though I’m independant and strong and 47 years old I will never stop needing her. Ever.
So, Happy Birthday Mamalu.
May this year provide more heart-expanding, breathtaking laughter between us than ever before.
xoS
. 
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