love letter to mom

i’m starting this post off with a deep, deep breath. my sweet, darling mother turned SEVENTY years old a few months ago. if you’ve had the pleasure of meeting this firecracker of a woman, you know how smart, generous, kind, funny, etc. she is. she doesn’t look a day over fifty. and she certainly doesn’t act a day over twenty-five (she’s probably more youthful than me, sadly!) but i’ll lose my patience with her sometimes because 1) she’s my mother or 2) maybe she forgot something, or is having trouble understanding technology (wifi is a really sticking point), and will actively have to remind myself, DUDE, she’s not exactly a spring chicken anymore; try to be more patient/understanding. the older i (and my mom) get, the more i appreciate the moments i’m lucky enough to spend with her.

which is why for her birthday this year, i gifted her a trip to the south of france. just the two of us, for a week, drinking wine all day long. in true cristina fashion, no matter how much of a yogi i become, i still found myself losing my cool with mom from time to time. but overall, i’m happy to report that i was able to be in every moment, realizing how fortunate i was to have an entire week of uninterrupted bonding time with my favorite person on the planet. i know that i have been guilty of taking her and her unconditional love and support for granted, but it’s never lost on my that i’ve been blessed with a truly incredible mother.

and i’m inspired by other beautiful parent/child relationships. for example, this one that just made me tear up a little while ago. there’s a life coach of sorts whom i follow, not only because he provides really great insights on life and relationships, but because he’s super charismatic and just seems like a genuinely decent human being. the kind of whom you think, yeah, his parents did something right. sure enough, he created a video for his blog that included footage of a visit from his dad: at one point the videographer asks the dad, so do you ever get extra proud of your son when you see the way his brain works? to which the dad responds: i try to resist being proud of what he does, but instead be proud of who he is. what a beautiful thing to say about someone you love. because a person could achieve all the accolades in the world, but if he/she isn’t a good person deep down, what does it matter? i couldn’t be more proud of who my mom is; i can only hope she feels the same way about me.

i love you, mom.