I sit here on my couch, laptop in my lap, my mom in sight.
Minus the way we take our coffee, mine black with one ice cube and hers slightly tan from a little non-fat milk, we look identical as she is on her computer feet away.
I don't think the phrase "becoming my mother" is appropriate. She has showed me through the years a strong personality and helped me develop my own sense of self all while loving (present tense included) me unconditionally. Although not opposite, I never felt relatable to her. We were just two strong people and she was just a ton more bad ass.
A text from her the other day read, "Am I stubborn?". I without hesitation texted into my phone: "Yes, when there is conviction..."
It was a revelation. Her gene of stubborness was very much in my veins. Mine possibly undeveloped and a little less mature, lets face it, ALOT less mature, it was something I had in common. (Minus the texting: yes people, my momma texts.)
I saw her reflection in Michelle's common sense. I saw her compassion ministered through Amy's hugs. Being a little bit of an odd bird of the three girls: tomboy/sporadic/doing-my own thing, I just had never seen my mom in me. I have very much wanted to. I never have met someone as amazing as her. Strong and courageous. Insightful. Beautiful.
I have been grown up since a very young age, knowing what I want and who I am. Becoming my mother is not in the cards for me because she has helped me develop into my own person. Which is why I love her so much. Knowing that I owned her stubborness made me feel triumphant, relatable, content. The little odd bird had finally flew home.
Maybe coffee, a little different colored from the milk and taken different ways, deep down is always coffee.
I am very okay with that fact.