My Mother.

I’ve been told throughout my life that I look like my mother, and it’s true. Standing at 5’7, with long brown hair and her bangs pulled back, and a freckled face, she’s beautiful. My mom and I share the same mouth shape and nose. We even get the same lines on our faces when we smile and I inherited some of the freckles. 

Besides looks, my mom and I are similar in other ways. Neither of us are quick to anger, like other people in our family. We think things through before getting upset, her more so than me and we can stay calm in tough situations, again her more so than me.

My mom can stare down a storm with a calm and collected face. She takes everything we throw at her seemingly with ease. I’ve personally thrown a lot at my mother(and father) these past few years. Through my severe anxiety, depression, and self harm my mother has always been a calming presence, and voice on the phone. Never once letting me see it upset her, she’s someone I can always turn to and someone I always do turn to.

While away at college, I don’t talk to my parents as much as I probably should. I sometimes go weeks without calling them and resort to talking to them through comments on Facebook. Recently though, I’ve been calling my parents at night time and having long talks about nothing and everything with my mom(because my dad is in bed already). We use this time on the phone to catch each other up on our lives, as well as to avoid doing homework. Usually, these long talks end in yawning matches as we both grow tired and with my mom “yelling” at me to get out of bed and finish my homework.

What I’ve learned these past few years is that:

My mom can bandage a broken heart with a hug,
Her advice can end internal wars,
She can save someone from falling with the sound of her voice.

I love her more than words can describe, and am so beyond grateful for her. I can’t wait until I go home so that I can see her and hug her.

Until next time,



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