You taught me that the best conversations
Happen while walking, while drinking
Or while watching you cook
From my perch on the kitchen counter
You taught me how to crack open my perspective
When I get too pretentious or proud
To understand where other’s are coming from
To listen
You taught me how to make chocolate chip cookies
It only took twenty-seven years, but I bake them myself now
They’re almost as good
Almost
You taught me how to look in the mirror
And tell myself:
Smile and you’re beautiful
That’s what’s most important
You taught me to sleep on it
All those big decisions
All those big words I wanted to say
And I’ve been better for it
You taught me how to say hard things
Even when I didn’t want to
You taught me what values are
Far before I understood the word
When I rub your grandfather’s ring
I think of you and all the years
I watched you slide it beneath your thumb
Moderation
You wanted to find a way to grow
To become better
But even by posing the question
You are (have been, the best of us)
We’re all just catching up
Because there’s this giant strength in you
That I see, but I know there is strength in you
That I do not know the depths of
All the ways you became who you are
Took courage and love and persistence
And sacrifice and learning and heart
— and who you are: phenomenal
That’s what the days and years have made you
An extraordinary human
And a mom I can thank and love
And talk to, no matter what
I love that
And I love you
Every part I know
And any part I do not
The whole of who you are
And that special you —
Mother to daughter —
That’s been just for me
Happy Birthday!