One Tough Cookie

Growing up, I always knew my mom was a tough cookie. She would pick me up when I fell, but didn’t insulate me from learning from my own experience. She let me get a D in school, and let me crash on my brother’s longboard. She let me ski even when she would cover her eyes when I raced. I hope to be as tough as her, to hold back from always breaking someone’s fall. In the short term it may have lessened my frustration or short term pain, but in the long term I would not have functioned independently without my parent’s constant guidance.

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When I did ask for help, she was always there, hell or high water. She rubbed my back all night after I broke my leg. She carried countless bags of ice to my room and was a sounding-board to endless venting all throughout my life (and certainly a few tantrums) She helped me move all my furniture so that I could de-mold my off campus house in college, then helped me get dressed the next summer when I spent ten weeks in a hospital bed rehabbing from a bike accident.

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She is the bright spot on a dark day, which has always made sense since her favorite color is yellow. I once asked her why her favorite color was yellow, and she replied that if the world is daisy yellow, you can’t help but be happy. I couldn’t agree more.

Unfortunately, my mom is proving in one more way that she is the toughest this year by going through full ACL reconstruction, but I look forward to early July, when the summer flowers start to come into full bloom, and we can go on some more bike rides together.

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