Angel Girl

Every year on my birthday I get my mother a card. Let's face it; I didn't really do much to get here so I think she's the one who deserves the recognition. She created me, gave me a chance, and allowed me to be a part of her life. I don't know of anything more a person can do for another!

It's funny that I think of my mother as a part of me when, in fact, I'm more a part of her. I don't have many of her physical attributes but my beliefs, mannerisms, and even speech patterns are so much like hers I find myself thinking, "If I didn't know better I'd swear Mom was speaking through me" on more than a few occasions. It used to scare me, thinking that I was becoming her, but as I grow older it makes me proud every time a Mom-ism flies out of my mouth without conscious thought.

I sit here thinking about her; this brave, wonderful woman whom I've come to admire more with each passing season and with each mother-to-daughter talk. I think of her there in her hospital bed and wish I could repay her for every skinned-knee kiss, every smoothed- back hair moment, every smile of pride, and for all the times I've looked into her eyes and seen total acceptance and love.

If I could I would take every one of those memories, weave them together, and create a blanket. I'd wrap myself in it to keep warm because I know that if she's taken from me I'll be colder than I've ever been before. I'd burrow into it's comfort and close my eyes and become a little girl again. I'd become HER little girl again because, once your mommy is gone, there's no one who can make you feel like she did. I still want to be my mommy's little angel girl or, as she still calls me to this day, her Angel Puss.