One hour into a rudderless ship

She loved me back.

The woman who stood on a toilet to braid my hair

Who fed me at her already full table

Who taught me the proper way to size a bra

The woman who always tried to convince me to carry myself like I was someone.  Because, to her, I am someone.

I was someone.

I was her niece.  I was her goddaughter.  I was, sometimes, her headache.  I was the mother of her three "favorite" little girls.  

I was indescribably lucky.

I lost a huge piece of my map this morning with the loss of my Aunt Baba.  My girls lost the woman who showed them more love and fun than almost anyone else in their world.  My cousins lost their guide.  And, my uncle lost more than I can imagine.

It's hard to think happy when you're broken.  It's hard to feel anything through the avalanche.  But we wouldn't have just lost so much if she hadn't given so much.  Been so much.

She loved me back.  For my whole life.  Kindly but not gently.  Without fail or reason. 

She loved me back.

Thank you, Baba.  For braiding my hair and crying at my wedding.  For answering every call and knowing how to mother.  For taking me in and for bandaging my falls.  For adoring my girls and helping me get it right.  Thank you for telling me when I was stupid and being there when you were proven right.  I love you unbending and constant.  Thank you for always loving me back.

Sari Sue

Dear Maya,

And then there was you.

I can't tell you how many times that sentence has followed you into a room.  When you come bounding in pretending to be a princess cheetah invisible to everyone but loud enough to start an antelope stampede four continents away.  When you tell the most outlandish story any fiction writer would give his lifetime supply of gigabyte storage for just to explain why your socks don't match.  When you won't let go of the last morning hug even though you insisted I was so mean all morning for making you brush all of your teeth.  When you pair a pink pettiskirt with black sparkly boots and blue leggings to make our Target run.  And, most especially, when you insist on sitting on my lap for each and every movie night.

Oh, my littlest love, you bring life to a room stagnant with normal.  You take me from just being to neon colors and laughing fits.  You are a force that can't be managed, and I envy that most.  A triple layer cupcake atop a pile of day old muffins, you are.  And not even a little afraid to show it.

On the morning we were first introduced, you looked at me like we were going to be great friends.  And on this morning that marked our eighth year, you look at me like we always will be.

Thank you, my fiercest love, for continuing to bring light to my tired eyes.  Because, no matter what else comes my way, I am so grateful to be able to say - and then there's Maya.

Always,

Mama