I wrote this “paper” as Mama’s birthday present

In keeping with recent school trends, I thought I would write a paper about my mother and what she means to me, then give it to her for her birthday, which is September 25. I couldn’t wait! Gave it to her early!
 
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What is the first thing that goes through my mind when I think of my mother, or maybe when I hear her name? That’s easy to feel, easy to see in my mind’s eye, but I don’t know if it’s easy to articulate. My mother’s name is Sue. She will be 60 years old this month, and I feel it is time to say some things I’ve tried to express all my life but am not sure I did express.

You know those people you admire in movies who are always nice, always hopeful, always strong? That’s my Mama. In my heart, my mother is the nicest person in the world. Sometimes, I realize this is a partial fantasy, but mostly, to this day I see her this way. I always did, and I hope I always do.
 
Though she took this as an insult when I said it, I told her once that she was such a Pollyanna, always “glad, glad, GLAD it happened!” I was being sarcastic, but I was also complimenting her. She has always been the one who could clean up the pile of poop, hoping to find a horse, but if she didn’t find it, well, at least the poop was not making a mess anymore. By that I mean she always has been able to take the very worst situations and make them into something positive.
 
Truthfully, I have been very jealous of Mama for years, in this regard. Now that her life is getting more difficult than ever before and she is slowly starting to wear out, I feel very guilty for all the sarcastic, hateful comments I ever made about her “eternal optimism”. I wish I could go back and let her know that underneath it all, my cynicism really WAS a cover-up for despair and a sense of “I’ll never be as good a person as she is.” I no longer consider it impossible to be as good as she is, but I will always think of her as at least one step ahead, if not more. She has earned that. She deserves it.
 
In the span of my near-40 year life, I have watched as people took Mama for granted; sometimes it was even me, her own child. I have seen people take her for granted. I have seen people use her, abuse her, and then blame her for all of it when none of it was her fault. In fact, I would venture to say that it would all have fallen apart at the seams if MY Mama’s hope and determination had not been there, sewing the torn pieces as they ripped, ironing on patches when she could not afford to replace the holey garments. 

Yes, I was jealous, and I still am, somewhat. I am also FIERCELY proud of my mother. I will go to bat for her against anyone, because Mama is my idea of feminine perfection, mostly. There are very few times when I think, “That’s not how Mama would do it” and do not mean it that she would emerge victoriously. She really did set the stage for what I thought “good people” were like. There has been a lot of disappointment in my life, as I realized that she is a rarity, not the norm. How I wish more people were like Mama, because then the world would be a much safer, far more loving place, and I would not be terrified sometimes to be a human being.
 
When I was a little boy, I clung to my mother desperately. In a way, that has never changed. Whatever was wrong, Mama could fix it. Whatever was bothering me, a Mama hug could take it away, even if only for a little while. That still happens, too. Mama hugs are the greatest feeling in the world, possibly a second only to the feeling of a baby on my arm.
 
  Why do I cling so desperately to Mama? That is easy to explain! She is the safest person in the world, and her presence is the nicest, safest place to be. I do not have to be in charge of anything, so there is no stress of holding things together myself. I do not have to worry about what anyone else thinks, because my brilliant, beautiful, quietly strong mother is smarter, bigger (symbolically), and far better than ANYBODY else! 
 
There have been times when I lamented that Mama is not an obnoxious, loud fighter, as are her children. There are more times when I realize with incredible admiration that Mama is what I call “quietly strong.” That means that she observes things, makes up her mind, and deals with things, while keeping the bulk of her feelings on the matter to herself. She has just as much determination as we do, but she is smarter in her way of dealing with it. She knows things we do not know, and I still have a lot to learn from her. I am very thankful to be blessed enough to know this!
 
Mama often gets sad about our explosive tempers, particularly my sister’s and mine, and the obnoxious ways we deal with people and situations sometimes. She tells me that she wonders where HER influence is in our lives. I will tell you exactly where it is. We want the best for everyone we love, and we are determined to help them find and achieve happiness. That comes from both our parents, but it is you, Me Mommy, who was more direct in expressing and, thereby, instilling it within us. 
 
Our ability to rise above the trials in life comes from her, too. I have watched as my mother dealt with things that would have broken anyone else I know; especially her widowhood when my father died. As emotionally dependent as she was on Daddy, it was a seemingly-impossible task to go on with life, but she did it, and she pulled herself back to being the person she had always been. That I highlight as a life lesson, and I use a very BRIGHT mental color for the highlight. 

Look at your children, Mama. What do you see when you think of us? If it’s anything positive, you had a very strong part in putting that in us. Daddy has his share, too, I realize, but you were always the one to lead by example. Your quiet strength versus his loud strength created a pretty mixed batch of buns from the oven! If we are more like him sometimes…well, you loved him with all your heart, so why should we NOT be like him, too? It does not negate your influence at all. Not one tiny bit. What you have taught me ab

out life, about people, about love, about commitment, about loyalty, about dedication, and about millions of other things is a permanent part of what I am at my core. 
 
In a nutshell, I would say that my precious, beloved Mama is the greatest woman I have ever known. Perhaps even more than her own mother. That is not a competition, though, so that statement is debatable. The point I am trying to make in this paper is that I love my mother with all my heart. I see her as the ideal by which I gauge the world, and almost no one lives up to that example. That is why I get so easily frustrated, maybe, because I see in my mind how MAMA would handle things, and it seems so RIGHT…but no one else seems to see it that way.
 
  Well I do.