(Part 2 of a three-part series.)
This picture of Mary Ellen—my mom—brings fond memories, which weren’t always so fond. Though the picture isn’t of the highest quality, it’s clear that she’s waving at the camera.
A few months after this picture was taken, my daily routine included Mom dropping me off each morning in front of Nimitz Junior High in Huntington Park, California. Like most preteens, the quicker I could get away from my parents before my friends saw me, the better. Mom paid no attention to my preteen awkwardness; she loved me and let the world know it by not only honking her car horn as she drove away, but by waving energetically at me as I melted into the sidewalk in embarrassment.
I’ve outgrown that stage of my life and miss my mom’s shameless manner in expressing her love for me.
Until this morning, I hadn’t thought about this picture for a long time. The instant I saw it, it was as if Mom was waving at me from where she is now, letting me know that she loves me and is thinking of me.
I’m doing the same, Mom, and am waving energetically back at you—without a hint of embarrassment.
(Tune in tomorrow for Part 3 of this three-part tribute to my mom.)