The One Who Knows You
Before I knew you, you were an art student in college. You probably sketched hundreds of self portraits but once you couldn’t seem to get it quite right.
Staring back at you from the paper was a young woman who resembled you, but her eyes were too dark, her hair too wavy, and her nose too narrow.
Despite her flaws, you kept the rough charcoal drawing anyway and safely stored it away in a box.
You are short. And I tease that you are shrinking whenever I see you.
You get angry. And it makes me smile the way you move your hands around when you yell.
You have red curly hair. And I’ve always loved to watch you try to tame it after you wake up.
You have a big heart. And I honor you for not being quick to judge others.
You wear glasses. And it makes me giggle when I find them after you forget where you left them.
You are patient. And you have held my hand when things got tough more times than I can remember.
The self portrait you drew now hangs framed in the stairway leading up to my room in the little brick house we call home.
As I grew up in your arms you traced me into who I am today.
You always tell me it’s amazing how we’ve become two totally different types of women.
The portrait you drew, it was me.
I’ve spent a life-time getting to know you.
But you knew me before you even met me.
And kept me safe, despite all my flaws…
and Mother, I love you.
