The House That Built Me

This weekend is a double whammy for me.

Today is Mother’s Day.

Today I miss being with my Mom and getting to tell her in a tangible and physical way how much I have always loved and appreciated her. The older I get and the longer I am a Mom myself, the more I realize how much I miss out not being able to share and compare on my own journey.

That is something I mourn deeply this year more than ever.

I can recall the first Mother’s Day I lived without her being in line at the grocery store behind two teenagers my age with a Hallmark card in hand complaining about having to fork over the money for something she would probably read and throw away. It’s moments of complacency like that in the lives of people around me this time of year that make me want to scream and shake them telling them how good they have it to have somebody who loves them unconditionally that they can call, hug, and share life with.

The things we take for granted.

Tomorrow, May 14 is the day she left the house I grew up in and entered her final battle in the hospital until God took her the home where she rejoices now.

Coming up on these two dates so close together this year has had me thinking a lot about how blessed I was growing up in my home. How she molded me under that roof and within those safe walls of refuge. A place where she not only loved me, but taught me everything I could ever learn in her numbered days with me as her daughter.

The place I learned to cook, not knowing how much I would love it later.

The place I ran through the sprinklers and swam in paint buckets on hot days.

The place I practiced and rehearsed my solos and lines for all of my plays.

The place I read my books in the hall closet where she set up a reading nook just for me.

The place I could take a shower and she would surprise me with a warm towel straight out of the dryer.

The place we planted things and watched them grow.

As I struggle through these couple of days, I do so remembering to live the kind of life my Mom lived in my own home with my own kids. I strive to be like the woman I remember in the kind of home I grew to love.

I swear this song was written for me sometimes.

3 thoughts on “The House That Built Me

  1. Oh Jessie,
    It kinda ironic that you wrote such a lovely bog about your mama and your home. Last weekend I was at my sisters soccer game just across the street from your old house. Such wonderful memories of your mom. I said a prayer for her as I parked right infront of your old house. Everyone who knew her loved her. We were all blessed to know her. I’m sure you treasure your memories and strive to be like her. It’s funny when we are younger we never wanted to be like our moms and for me I find myself striving to learn and be more like mine everyday. Happy mothers Jessie!

  2. Hey Jessie, As usual I love reading your blogs, they go straight to my heart, This one especially,,,…, The way that you take care of your family with so much love ,shows that you were takin in everything
    that your mom was teaching you when you were growing up!!! Because today you are an AMAZING young woman With a heart of gold,,,, A WONDERFUL mother,,,A very loving wife ,,,,,And Jess you are a WONDERFUL daughter In Law, whom we love with all our hearts,,,,,You have given us 2 Beautiful grandbabies that are our everything, they are amazing & so full of love!!!! Jess ,,,,I do know that your mom is soooo proud of you today,, You are EVERYTHING that she had so wanted you to become,,,,We Love You Jess Happy Mothers Day ,,,
    Luv Nana & Pappi

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