Today is the date of my mother's birthday. She has been dead since 1982, but I miss her always. When I think of my mother, I think of her laugh and love of nature. She loved traveling in the mountains, when we would visit my sister and her family in Denver. I remember how she would wipe down "her" car that she maintained with great attention. Many things in her life had been beyond her control, but whenever I think of her, I remember her strength.
The work that I am doing now, and the fellowship I am about to embark upon, would have made her proud. She kept me close, while she was alive and many of the things I thought I was ready to do then, I am finally accomplishing. And that is okay. I love that I can hold her love in my heart, as I feel very tempted to be scared or insecure about the work in New York.
