A Song for Mama(s)

To Mama Bell; to aunts Lou-Lou, Nell, and Tootsie; to my soon-to-be mom-in-law; to Grandma Genevieve (whom I never got to meet but left behind the best father a man could ask for); to Nana; to my sister Sandy; to my friends Lety, Lori, Natalie, Nicole, Shannon; to my friends I've never actually met, Maria and KST; and to all those other special women out there who are the reason for the season. Happy Mother's Day:



You really haven't heard this song until you've heard me sing it - wildly off-key, loudly and sincerely.

But the woman to whom I particularly dedicate this song today ... well, there isn't enough space in the blogosphere to convey the depth of love and appreciation and admiration that I have for her.

A not-so-brief, sorta connected story: the day I learned that I lost my dream job, I was determined to keep the news to myself. Obviously, I was delusional. I spent the day in my apartment, alternating between sobbing, playing video games and wishing that I could somehow make myself disappear. The next morning, my mother called to make her regular check-up on me. I thought I was doing a good job of pretending everything was okay. But my mother instinctively knew something was wrong, and invited me out for one of my favorite pastimes - aimless driving around the city. I thought I could hold it together; somehow my mom figured a way to coax the bad news out of me. If only for the moment, I felt better to let it all go. She promised that someday this wouldn't sting so bad.

When I finally did find a new job months later, my mother accompanied me on a trip to Shreveport to look for an apartment. It was raining, the apartment stock in town was awful and expensive and Shreveport looked particularly shitty that day. I might have started tearing up again; I'm not quite sure. I'm sure the look on my face said what in the hell is happening to me? My mother, again, somehow convinced me that everything would be okay. This would be the best thing to ever happen to me, she said.

I thought she was being unduly optimistic. And I probably said so.

Several months down the road, during a brief break in work, I introduced my mom to one of my new friends at work. Afterward, my mother said "she's cute. Does she have a boyfriend?" It was a little embarrassing. Things weren't like that, you know? I was sorta seeing someone. And I played it off.

About two years later, I was engaged to my cute friend from work.

I'll never get tired of my mother being right.