By Nicole Smith
It happens every year. Mother’s Day is just around the corner. I go to pick out a card for my Granny, and instinctively start to pick out one for mom, too. It takes about two seconds for me to remember; I have nowhere to send it.
My mom was my biggest fan. Having more faith in me than I ever had in myself, and more hopes and dreams for me than I even had the courage to come up with.
We loved going to Lumberton together when I was little. We’d go to the mall to grab a hotdog and an orangeade from Geneva’s, or as we called it “The Hotdog Place”, go see a movie at the Cinema Four, then walk across the little bridge to the park after.
We would often watch the last scenes of “Grease” or “Dirty Dancing” over and over again. Let’s face it, those last song and dance sequences are worth the hour and a half it takes to make it to that point in the movie.
I used to absolutely hate going to JC Penny with her. Anybody who ever went shopping with her knows EXACTLY what I’m talking about. That woman loved her some JC Penny. Now, I’d give anything to spend the three hours it took in that store with her.
I often wonder if she sees what’s going on in my life. Does she know that “My Tribute” is still my favorite song to play on the piano? Or that many of the meals I make for my family are ones she taught me to cook?
I hope she knows just how much of an influence she’s been on my life, and how much I appreciate every little thing she ever did for me. Even the things that I probably have no idea about, and never will.
So, Mom… Since there are no mailboxes in heaven, I want to say I love you, I miss you, and Happy Mother’s Day! I am truly blessed to be your daughter.
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