This post can't do my mother justice. I can try to keep it simple, but there's too much to say, too much to be contained within the confines of a blog. I can tell you about how she used to wake me up in the morning, when I was little, how she ripped up the window shades and announced that it was time to face the day, with that unique mixture of earnestness and optimism and irony, that beautiful irony thrown in that gave her a little bit of an edge. She knew that even at age eight a sudden blast of morning sunlight and the prospect of a math test was enough to throw an andiron into any kid's brand new shiny day. But that was life. Interesting, confounding, amazing, astounding life. And to face it, she gave me everything I needed. She taught me everything. She taught me:
Basically, she taught me love. How to be loved. How to love. Can I thank her properly for that?
Thank you, Mom.