Today is my mom's birthday. She turns 63. I found this photo of her, around the age of 17, plastered into an ancient photo album. When I peeled it out and scanned it, I noticed my Grandma Lucy had written, in small, lowercase letters on the back, my baby.
My mom and I are close. How could we not be? She's supportive, realistic (but also optimistic), fun, strong, and well-loved. I don't know a single person who's met my mom who hasn't adored her.
But the very best thing about my mom is her ability to enjoy life's small pleasures. A cup of coffee on a sunny porch, a lunch out, a vase of homegrown flowers on the table. Any one of those things can bring her joy.
Happy Birthday, mom. I'm so glad I'm your daughter.