What I miss most about my mom

For the first time in my life,
I’ll be motherless this Mother’s Day.
It’s a funny feeling.
I can no longer speak with the one
who taught me how to talk.
I can no longer walk alongside the one
who taught me how to walk.
I can no longer listen to the one
who taught me the importance
of listening to others.
I can no longer sing with the one
who taught me how to harmonize.
I can no longer cry with the one
who wiped away my tears.

God, how I miss that twinkle in her eye.
I miss her affirmation when she’d read my latest poem.
I miss her spaghetti sauce.
I miss her corny jokes.
I miss hearing her say
“Age is just a number and mine is unlisted.”
I miss hearing her remind me how to spell FROG.
“Fully Rely On God.”
I miss hearing her pray.
I miss hearing people say,
“You sure have an amazing mom!”
(even though I already knew that).

This Mother’s Day as I look into the mirror,
I’ll be reminded how old I am.
This Mother’s Day as I look into my heart,
I’ll be reminded I’m still a child.

It’s curious, isn’t it?
No matter how many candles adorn your birthday cake,
you always want your mom.