Tomorrow is the anniversary of several important things. It’s the anniversary of the day Abraham Lincoln was shot, the anniversary of the day the titanic sunk and most importantly, the anniversary of my mom’s birth.

There are some things you might not know about my mom. She was the valedictorian of kindergarten. And junior high. And high school. And she graduated with some Latin suffix from college too. She is the middle out of 5 children. She has 2 daughters and 3 step-daughters. She yells “fuck a duck” when she drops heavy things on her feet (she denies this). She swears like a sailor when she makes pie crusts (she denies this too, see a pattern?). She cleans when she’s mad. She can spell better than I will ever be able to dream of.

And she is the best mom in the world.

I could call my mom at 4 in the morning on a Tuesday and all I’d have to say is that I need her and she’d be here as fast as she can drive those 130 miles that lie between us. All I have to do is casually mention cake or cookies and before I know it, there’s a cake or a plate of cookies at my door. Before I even receive medical bills, she offers to pay them.

My mom loves fiercely, passionately. And she loves with her whole heart, every single time. And because of that, she’s had her heart broken more than once. She had her dreams destroyed. She’s been disappointed, she’s been devastated.

But she has never given up.

She’s struggled through times harder than I’ll ever know, than I can ever imagine, but she picks herself up every time. She never loses hope, never loses faith that in the end, it’s going to be okay. She tries harder, she pushes through and she never just survives. She thrives. She shines.

I owe my mom more than I can put into words. It’s obvious that I wouldn’t be the person I am without her, but it’s so much more than that. My mom picked me up from the depths of depression, from the torment of an eating disorder. She supported me when I traveled around the world alone. She let me move 2000 miles away for a boy she hardly knew and supported me, even when I know she would’ve done just about anything to keep me in California.

And if that was all she’d ever done for me, that would be enough.

But that’s not all she’s done, all she is.

My mom is also one of my very best friends. She is my confidant. She’s my cheerleader.

My mom is the keeper of my hope, the protector of my heart. She is my inspiration, my role model.

My mom is the kind of parent I want to be. She is the kind of person I hope to become.

She’s so much more than this, but there aren’t adjectives to describe her. I can spend all night trying to explain to you how much that lady means to me, but I’ll never capture her. I’ll never capture the mom, the person, the friend that she is. It simply isn’t possible.

And so instead of wasting more time or searching for more ways to eloquently say that my mom is awesome, I’ll just stop here and cut to the chase.

Happy birthday lady.

Thank you for being my mom. For being you. For loving me.

I love you to the end of the earth and back.

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