I’m not sure what this means, I’m not sure what my groove it. Certainly there are times I am stuck in the past, and far too many times I want to rush into the future. But today my groove is definitely focused on the most precious gifts I received.
Happy Birthday, to my little girl. 33 years ago (at this very moment of writing) I was screaming my head off “Never again.” Thirty-six hours of hard labor that was most certainly worth it, I just wish someone had warned me there’d be no drugs; no spinal block, no joy pills, no epidural, and definitely no epithelium (?).
33 years ago Psam came physically into my life and I have never looked back at the figure lost – because now I can go anywhere and not get lost due to the relief map of the US that was once my flat tummy. Never afterwards have I been alone. Psam had been there
through it all divorces, romances, toads, frogs, and princes. She while she didn’t always like the roads I drug her down she endured, learned from my mistakes, and became the strong woman she is, a great mother, a splendid person.
An independent little soul who would roam my parent’s trailer park in her own little jeep.
Following my dad around like he’d hung the moon, then screech at the top of her lungs for my mother, “He’s doing it again,” when he’d flip his two front teeth out at her. Her sitting on the kitchen counter in my mom’s kitchen perched next to my little brother, Buddy, watching episodes of Gilligan’s Island, sharing a kypted RC Cola from my other brother, Butch.
She never complained about the homemade clothes, the second hand bike, nor the homemade presents. Despite her room being painted hot pink, she never once said she’d have preferred it to be in her favorite red. She rocked. I was blessed with a child who devoured books, stood up for herself, and was a tomboy, who could spend a full day climbing trees and sand dunes with the best of them.
For 33 years I have been blessed to a partner in crime, my duets partner for road trips in a musty VW that she abhorred. Singing Deep Purple, The Beat Goes On, Heart and Soul, Midnight Train to Georgia, and Shhh-boom, but never The Long Way Home. I will always hold dear the memory of her, her cousin, and their friend harmonizing at their eighth grade graduation Amazing Grace. Watching her from the bleachers as she advanced in school band and concert choirs.
Today she is a wonderful mother, an open minded woman who gives all of her heart and soul to her son, and then stretches it farther for every one else. I can’t imagine being more blessed.
The groove in my heart is filled with the blessings of lessons, love, and joy that come with the motherhood and friendship of Psam. Happy Birthday.
Love,
Mom
Happy Birthday, to my little girl. 33 years ago (at this very moment of writing) I was screaming my head off “Never again.” Thirty-six hours of hard labor that was most certainly worth it, I just wish someone had warned me there’d be no drugs; no spinal block, no joy pills, no epidural, and definitely no epithelium (?).
33 years ago Psam came physically into my life and I have never looked back at the figure lost – because now I can go anywhere and not get lost due to the relief map of the US that was once my flat tummy. Never afterwards have I been alone. Psam had been there
through it all divorces, romances, toads, frogs, and princes. She while she didn’t always like the roads I drug her down she endured, learned from my mistakes, and became the strong woman she is, a great mother, a splendid person.An independent little soul who would roam my parent’s trailer park in her own little jeep.
Following my dad around like he’d hung the moon, then screech at the top of her lungs for my mother, “He’s doing it again,” when he’d flip his two front teeth out at her. Her sitting on the kitchen counter in my mom’s kitchen perched next to my little brother, Buddy, watching episodes of Gilligan’s Island, sharing a kypted RC Cola from my other brother, Butch.She never complained about the homemade clothes, the second hand bike, nor the homemade presents. Despite her room being painted hot pink, she never once said she’d have preferred it to be in her favorite red. She rocked. I was blessed with a child who devoured books, stood up for herself, and was a tomboy, who could spend a full day climbing trees and sand dunes with the best of them.
For 33 years I have been blessed to a partner in crime, my duets partner for road trips in a musty VW that she abhorred. Singing Deep Purple, The Beat Goes On, Heart and Soul, Midnight Train to Georgia, and Shhh-boom, but never The Long Way Home. I will always hold dear the memory of her, her cousin, and their friend harmonizing at their eighth grade graduation Amazing Grace. Watching her from the bleachers as she advanced in school band and concert choirs.
Today she is a wonderful mother, an open minded woman who gives all of her heart and soul to her son, and then stretches it farther for every one else. I can’t imagine being more blessed.
The groove in my heart is filled with the blessings of lessons, love, and joy that come with the motherhood and friendship of Psam. Happy Birthday.
Love,
Mom
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2 comments:
Isn't it great to feel that close to your child?
That's the way it's supposed to be. You must be a great Mom!
Happy Birthday Psam!
What a tributory post to your daughter. Belated wishes to her!
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