Going Home | March 2013 | Copyright 2013

Today is Mother’s Day. I’ve already been wished “Happy Mother’s Day” by a whole bunch of presumptuous strangers that assume my parents are living (they are), that I have a decent relationship with them (I do) or that I, myself, am a parent (I’m not). I understand and appreciate the sentiment, but it always leaves me feeling weird inside.

Every year on Mother’s Day, I can’t help but think about all of my friends and people I know who have good reasons not to celebrate. I have friends whose Mother died when they were young, and friends whose Mother turned her back on them when they needed her the most. I know people who couldn’t have children, or whose child left the world before them.

I always want to acknowledge these Mother’s Day outsiders, but I never quite know how. So I’ll say this: to all of my friends who find this holiday a painful reminder of everything that they don’t have, what they didn’t grow up with, and those they are missing, I want to say--I’m proud of you and who you’ve become. You are wonderful and strong and I’m so lucky to know you. You are amazing.

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