Back in December, I got into a conversation with my mother about what it's like to have kids. I asked her if she was afraid of losing her own life when she had me. She looked at me, shook her head and said: "When you have a child, you love that child so much your life becomes theirs. Just seeing them live is enough for you." She explained that watching something she made just grow and learn and fall and learn more is a reoccuring joy. It struck me as a pretty profound statement then, but it really hit me hard today when I talked to her on the phone and she asked, as always, if I needed anything.
Then I realized that the love she has for me and the love of being a mother in general is the kind of love I've always wanted to emulate. I'm still years away from it, 'cause Lord, sometimes I can't even take care of myself. But it's probably the most perfect and whole and pure love on Earth. And that's what love means to me: that genuine care for another person, obviously and regardless. So thanks, Mom, for, you know, loving me -- even when I'm a shithead. If I can love my own child half as much as you've loved me then I'll consider myself an OK human being.