My Ma

Mother’s Day

My ma.

Sure, I think about the fact that I am a mom but mostly get lost in the thoughts of what my ma means to me.

A lot of people will tell you we look alike, which is not a bad thing.

Truth be told, I am my mother in more ways than just looks. I have never wanted to be anything but my mother. I have wanted to love like her, laugh like her, think like her, live like her, have a marriage like her and ultimately be her.

We think alike. Decisions tend to take weeks to make if ever made. We second guess the decision. We analyze the decision. We change the decision once it is made.

And we like the same things: Starbucks Chai Tea Lattes, Havianas, basil, real onion rings, pretty pedicures, a good book, slippers in the winter, country music and Steak and Shake Diet Cherry Coke.

My drive each morning starts with a phone call to her. The days we don’t talk I feel like I have forgotten a critical piece to my day.

My drive each afternoon ends with a phone call to her. Some days the phone call is rushed but as long as I hear her voice, the day can end and I can handle anything.

In between the conversations, the visits, the vacations, and the packages, there are moments that hit me like a ton of bricks where I wish she was here. I wish she lived closer. I wish I saw her more. I wish our lives were threaded like a tightly weaved basket on a daily basis. And then I stop and remember they are. It’s not the miles between us, the difference in our days or the years that separate us. She is my ma, my best friend and I find myself smiling knowing that she is what makes me me.

And for that, I say thank you. I love you. Happy Mother’s Day!


Three Generations

Three generations. Three different lives. The two most important women in my life.

The three of us are separated by almost sixty years. My grandma is almost 90. She looks great. She still read the newspaper, watches the news, and calls her grandkids on her cell phone. And my mama? Well, she is my mama. She knows me better than I know myself. She makes me want to be a better a mother, be a better teacher, be a better wife. She carries me when I am stumbling and is my biggest cheerleader regardless of the feat.

The three women in that picture above have lived through MAJOR moments in history. For my grandmother it was the Great Depression. she will tell you what life was like and it still shows in her today. My mother can tell you where she was the day, the minute, and the second, Kennedy was shot. And I can tell you where I was the exact moment I heard the news that the first tower crashed on that fateful day in September 2001.

That is what we have. Three generations of women. My mother, my grandmother and me. Three generations of females who resemblance is obvious, whose friendship with one another deeply rooted, whose loyalty is fierce and whose personalities are so similar that if you didn’t see us, you would be confused who you were talking to. Do we bicker? Yes. Do we disagree? Daily. Do we drive each other crazy? Always. But I am one of them and I am proud to be a part of them. I am proud to the third Pellegrino woman. And, I am grateful they are in my life.