Updated: Apr 25, 2022
My mom taught me that a fresh coat of paint is magical. That you can find almost anything by retracing your steps. That stories are told with hands as much as mouths. That sometimes, you can’t see the forest for the trees.That it’s futile to seek your fulfillment from a partner.
She taught me that the best things are often the ones you don’t want to do the morning of. She taught me that endorphins make you happy. And that talking to strangers can make way for miracles. She taught me that life is better with an adventure on the calendar and that god can be found on a bike, or on a sleep aboard train or in your favorite blueberry scone. She taught me that gossip is toxic and generosity is better when it’s for the sake of itself. She taught me that flirting is sacred and self care is no ones responsibility but your own. (She did daily stretches in her death bed💗)
She taught me that singing loudly with head phones while cleaning the house could be a form of church. And belting Beyoncé in the bathtub was reasonable. She taught me its okay to ride an inflatable banana naked across Lake Havasu with your best friend. That nudity is natural. She taught me you can get breast implants if you want them. Or wear pajamas to wine country. Or cut your hair short or not wear any makeup.
She taught me it was okay to dress up. And to want to be beautiful. She taught me that there are worse things than being heavy and to be thankful for my body and health. She taught me that Christmas lights can be all year lights if you choose the white ones. That having a new person at a dinner makes everyone put their metaphorical fancy shoes on, and that we all need that once in a while.She taught me that we become what we focus on. That courage and surrender can live in the same room. She taught me that cancer isn’t a battle and death isn’t a failure and that healing is nuanced and has many layers.
She taught me that movies are worlds. That crying is catharsis. Theres too much to tell, of course. So much depth and beauty in one life.
I know her seeds haven’t even all sprouted. In that way, she’s alive and well. In me and in everything.