Mom

Mom.  Three little letters that carry so much weight on my heart and soul that I honestly cannot think of another woman that has walked this earth that I would rather have play the part as my mother.  Her love is endless. 
She raised me with more grace and mercy than I could have ever imagined.  And I can only hope that one day I have as much patience with my own child that she has with me.
There has not been one moment that she has steered me wrong.  She always knew just what to say to build me up and make me feel better when I was down and out.  And her lessons made such an impression on my mind that I crave the opportunity to pass on the knowledge to my son.

She taught me to clean my room so that I would know how to clean and care for my home.

She taught me how to cook Mac-n-cheese, hamburgers and homemade pizza so that I would know who to cook a meal to place upon the dining room table.

She taught me how to care for a flower, when I was younger, so that as a grownup, I would know how to tend a garden.

She taught me how to be sweet and kind so that, when I grew into my own as a man, I would know how to run my home with a gentle and loving hand. 

She rocked and cuddled me as a child so that, when I had a boy of my own and he would bang his head hard, I would know the importance of comforting a child and making him smile again.

She taught me how to sing alto with a sharp ear for music, therefor, paving the path that would lead me to learn tenor and bass and the ability to switch between the four parts with precision timing and tone. 

She taught me how to run a budget so that when I had one of my own, I would have the stability my family would need and my wife would look for in the years to come.

She taught me, as a child, that I could do anything.  So, when life not only threw a curve ball, but threw a monkey wrench in my gears that brought everything to a gear-wrenching, grinding, smoky halt, I would do what needed to be done to put things back into working order again and stand on my own two feet.

She taught me that she believed in me and that I could do anything.  And, in doing so, she taught me to believe in myself.

She taught me Jesus.  She lived to me Jesus.  In doing so, she taught me to talk with Jesus, lean on Jesus and walk with Jesus.

Mom.  I called here “Mommy” when I was younger.  I tried ‘Ma’ once.  That didn’t go over so well.  And then I grew up, just a little, and began to call here “Mom”.   I told myself, “Self, you are growing up.  You’re becoming a man and calling your mother ‘Mommy’ is child’s play.  You need to be manly and tough.  Saying the word ‘Mommy’ just doesn’t reflect that.  It’s now ‘Mom’.”… I was eleven and in the fifth grade…  For, you see, she’s no ordinary mother.  She is Mom to a He Man. 
Truth be told, I’m thirty years old, now, and she can walk into any room I’m in and she puts me in the fifth grade again.  There she stands; my Mommy.  And the love for Mom will never change, say for growing stronger.
You can call me a ‘momma’s boy’ until you are blue in the face. 
She is my mother.  I her son.
Mom.