My Mother’s Daughter

 

momWhenever I have chicken for dinner, I always make broth afterwards with the bones, even if I don’t have a particular need for chicken broth. My friends rave over my fluffy, homemade rolls that I bake from scratch. If people are coming over, even just to drop something off, I scour my whole apartment – including the bathroom. You never know…When faced with a daunting task, like packing for a move, or painting, or assembling Ikea furniture, I roll up my sleeves and start. Somehow or other I manage to get the job done. I wouldn’t dream of leaving the house in an un-ironed dress shirt, even if it makes me late. I always have room for dessert.  I am an insatiable reader. I do the daily crossword puzzles in the paper on the subway. Even when I am on my tightest budget, I refuse to buy cheap shampoo. I believe that both meals and exercise are always better when shared with others. I have faith that things will somehow work out for the best, even if that looks impossible at the moment. I believe in miracles. I rely on them. I have a fierce loyalty to friends and family. I try to honest with others, even when it’s hard.

Though in many ways we are very different, I am still my mother’s daughter. I have come to discover more and more over the years how much of who I am I learned from her. She is sensitive to my needs, and can sometimes feel when I am hurting or in danger, even without me having to say anything. Although we are far apart, I know that she watches out for me in her heart, and I am blessed by the sanctifying, unconditional love of a good mother.

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