From a young age, I was awed by the gifts my mother would churn out. Perfect corners, straight ribbons, bows that curled (before you could buy the already-curled bows). I'd attend birthday parties and mothers would comment on how nicely wrapped the gift was. Sometimes, people would ask me if I had the store do the wrapping. "Nope," I'd say. "My mom wrapped it for me." I felt proud of Mom at those moments.
|These are not presents my mother wrapped. I found the picture during an image search, and it's everywhere. Who originally took this photo? I'm not sure.|
I also don't have the energy to make this post into something special. Just know this: I've said a lot about my Mom and her diagnosis of Alzheimer's. I've written about how I've been hurt by her and how some of the memories I have of Mom (and Dad) aren't always the most pleasant (isn't that the way it is with all families?). But the presents and the lesson I learned from them stand out to me so much. In a roundabout way, Mom gave me a present I hadn't expected. I feel as though I should say, Thank you.
I guess I just did.