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Her Mother’s Daughter

My mother’s love is like a knife – it hurts coming and going.  She has so many sides to her and simple she just is not.  I’m never quite sure if I should strangle her or hug her.  Was it crazy to want to do both?  At the same time?  I don’t know. 

There were a lot of times I felt she pushed me to the brink of insanity but likewise she  pushed me just as hard to persevere in a culture that tried to put boundaries on a girl like me.  Time and again as I was growing up she pushed and she pushed.  Sometimes for good things, other times for bad.  She confused me.  I hated her.  I loved her. 

But of everything she’s done – to me, against me, for me – I’ve always known that her love for me is unwavering and constant. 

In my most vulnerable moments it’s her unconditional love that I reach for.

That was an excerpt from one of my short stories. I’ve been thinking about my mom lately and thought I’d post this piece. The story is a tribute to that crazy relationship so many mothers share with their daughters.

If my mother happens to cross this post, I hope when and if she does she realizes I posted it because that last line above is one of my favorite and truest lines I’ve ever written.

By the way, if anyone wants to read the rest of the story, just shoot me an email and I’ll gladly send it your way.

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