My Mom turned 60 today. WOW. That’s a pretty big deal.
By the time my Mom was my age she was pregnant with her third child (me!) and, unbeknownst to her, in less than two years she would be uprooting her young family halfway across the world to Canada.
Growing up, my Mom was the strongest, smartest woman I knew. She worked hard. I like the story she told me of the first week she arrived in Toronto, how she walked up and down Bloor Street handing out résumés to every business she saw. She was tough, practical and full of common sense.
She also loved me to bits. Throughout the years she’s played the role of my (gulp) fashion consultant, financial advisor, and dear friend. She’s rescued me from countless situations, right up until the very last days before I left for London (thanks Mom, and sorry).
In high school my Mom used to stay up with me when I worked late into the night, snoozing on the couch as I studied for tests until the early hours of morning. In university when I worked summer jobs downtown she would head to work every day much earlier than needed, or stay late, just to accommodate my schedule and be able to pick me up from the subway station.
It’s only been in the last few years that I’ve come to appreciate my Mom as a real person, with all the flaws and weaknesses that humans possess. And it makes me admire her even more.
Happy birthday Mom. (Sorry that I told everyone how old you are.) I’m sad I’m not there to celebrate with you. I love you a lot. You’re still the smartest woman I know.