There has always been something special about my Mother’s hands.  As a child, I remember loving how she’d reach for my hand to pray with her on our way to school.  I used to have to beg my Dad to let me sit between them in church, as I found nothing more entertaining than pinching the skin on the top of her hands and watching it stay there for a moment, mesmorized by its folds and freckles.  She’d try hard not to laugh and tell me to pay atttention to what was going on in church, but it didn’t really work.  I can recall countless times where just her touch calmed and comforted me.  Those hands were the ones that cooked and cared for our family, bandaged cuts and scapes, wiped away tears, sewed our Halloween costumes from scratch, clapped for us with pride, rubbed our sunburned backs with aloe, tucked us in at night, wrote us Valentine’s cards, filled our stockings and every aspect of our lives with love.  Even now, just looking at her hands reminds me of how she’s loved us.

On Mother’s Day, I’m reminded of the amazing woman I call Mom.  A woman who, without even knowing it, brightens a room simply by being in it.  A woman who always finds the best in situations, who smiles, laughs, loves, and lives as if there were no tomorow.  A woman who says hello to everyone she passes, who takes the time to stop and talk and listen to store clerks and busboys.  A woman who is still crazy in love with my dad.  A woman who is an incredible “Grammy” and friend.  A woman who never stops taking pictures of what she finds beautiful.  A woman who with just the sound of her voice makes it all seem better.  A woman who would do anything for her family.  A woman who, with each year, I feel increasingly blessed to call my Mom. 

Today, as is the tradition every year, my family sits on the beach in San Clemente for brunch and sounds of laughter and joy fill the salt air.  The adults all sit on blankets and chairs, laughing and talking while the kids run around burying one another in the sand, building sand castles, throwing each other into the frigid May water, and running up to us frequently to share their lastest treasure.  These faces, these people, these moments, I miss more than you know.  But I count myself as one of the luckiest people to have such wonderful people to miss. 

To all that you are, Mom, I thank you.  Below is a picture from 2007, before photography was even a thought in my mind.  It was taken with my little point and shoot camera on the train to New Jersey to visit my now husband’s parents while my parents were visiting from California.  I found it funny to notice in plain sight that the only legible text in the magazine she’s reading says, “First, focus on the lenses…”  I wonder what she was reading and what it related to, and if, somehow, it was some foreshadowing of what was to come…

With love and adoration, happy Mother’s day, Mom and to all the Mom’s out there!