Dear Mom

growing up, 'mom' was always a hard concept to understand. mom always had the answers to any question i could think of; mom always knew why my tummy hurt or how to cheer me up when i was crying; mom has always been home. mom has always been the compass and the anchor and the lighthouse and any other god forsaken metaphor i can think of about leading me home. mom has always been bedtime stories and holding hands and staying home on rainy days to watch cartoons. mom is nursery rhymes on the way to the grocery store, even if i've heard them a hundred times, even if they stopped being funny when i was six. mom is the super fan with the giant foam finger cheering me on, mom is the only person in the world that's made me feel like it's worth being here. growing up, 'mom' stops being a word and becomes a person. growing up, i can start to see my mother in me and i consider myself lucky. mom has always been the rising moon in this sunset city, glowing bright and proud, (dear mom, cheers to you).