Mom
mom with her closest friend, Karen ~ 2016 Last night, as I was taking a bath, I had a strange memory. I remember being a child and finding the place in her room where my mom kept all of her most treasured belongings. Glass bracelets from Nepal, necklaces from Africa, perfumes in dark bottles…so many beautiful and exotic pieces. Like my mom. Beautiful. Exotic. A treasure to pine for. I’m the youngest of five children. Our parents were raised Catholic, but my mom wanted to leave the church behind for us. She didn’t want us to be filled with guilt, shame, or judgements that she felt organized religion might pass along. She did, however, want to raise us with the beauty and kindness of the Catholic church. She wanted to give us the best parts. When I was little, I wanted to be JUST. LIKE. HER. I loved watching how others watched her. She was beautiful, quiet, patient, intentional, curious, and honest. When I was a teenager, these traits turned into: vain, absent, slow,