What do you love most about your mom?
-How she is always there for me and how sometimes she puts my needs before her own.
-The fact that she will accept and support everything even if she does not agree with my choice or all that comes with it.
-Her kindness and thoughtfulness.
-That she understands me.
-That she knows me better than anyone.
-Her embrace.
-Her patience.
-Her eyes and the way they always give me reassurance, when I am feeling insecure.
Mother, you don’t just give love. You are love.
My Mother’s name is Rosalia. If she was a color, it would be green or light blue and if she was a flower, she would be a red tulip. Tulips are fragile, just like my mom.
Since I was a little girl, I always tried not to identify Rosalia only with her role as mother. I was trying to look at her as a whole and understand her as I would expect her to understand me. I was -and I still am- trying to get to know her and be friends with her and the truth is that I think I am doing a good job. In other words, I am trying not to dismiss Rosalia as a girl, a daughter, a woman, a wife, as well as a mother. I want to know her and learn her story -to rejoice at her successes and grieve at her failures, laugh at her mistakes and cry with her losses. To give her exactly what she is giving me…LOVE.
They say we don’t get to choose our parents, but if I had to choose, I would choose her again; I would choose her eyes, which are always genuine, her smile, which always brings you warmth, her love, which never forgets me, her hair, her arms, her scent, her embrace which always holds me tight and her lips which say ‘I love you’. I would choose her tears or the way she acts like a child, when she looks at me waiting for me to yell at her for a mistake she made, how happy she looks when she sees me, and how sad she looks when I am gone. The way her body leans toward the ground when she holds me in her arms and how she makes faces while she asks me not to go. I would choose all of her even if sometimes I say that she can be a lot or that she annoys me. Still I would choose her, because I love her and I am a part of her just like she is a part of me. A part I will never forget.
How could I forget her when she helped me become who I am today and gave me the opportunity to dream? She was the one who read me fairytales sitting in the chair next to my bed, who sang Chatzidaki’s songs to me as they echoed from the old radio.
She read me so many fairy tales, taught me so many songs, made me smile so many times. She gave me and continues to give me the whole world. She keeps looking out for me, thinking of me in a way that exceeds her own self. Hold me tight and love like a mom- like a mother- like my mama.
People say that a mother’s love is the most selfless. It is the kind of love that makes your heart beat faster as you try to control your breathing. The kind that helps you see the optimism of the world a little clearer. The kind that protects you and allows you to dream of flying without being afraid that your wings will burn. And lastly, it is the kind of love that makes you remember the eyes of the people you care about, feel everything and love no matter how difficult it might be sometimes.
Mom, Mother, Mama, I love you. And thank you for sharing your story with me and showing me your vulnerabilities, because no one is invincible.
Thank you for everything.
