my beautiful mom

My mom + me + my doll, Christmas, 1968.

There is only one person in this world who can in any moment of distress bring my instant comfort, and simultaneously whose perceived disapproval can send me reeling into a tailspin of doubt.

Yup. You guessed it: that person is my mother.

Oh, the power of the mother. It's intense.

I have been extremely lucky to have a mother who is an incredible human being, and who becomes more incredible everyday. My mom will turn 70 years old this fall, and here are a few things about her: She is a staunch and outspoken supporter of Barak Obama. She's an astounding art quilter. {She writes a political blog and a blog on her work.} She's an active grandparent. An outspoken supporter of gay rights. A phenomenal gourmet cook. A critical thinker. A world traveler. {At this moment she is traveling through the Middle East on a historical tour.} She is strong and smart and eager about life. She's been married to my dad {who's pretty awesome in his own right} for 44 years. She walks every single day. Every time I talk to her on the phone she tells me: "I love you, sweetie" before we hang up.

On top of all of these things, she loves me so much for exactly who I am (every gay, tattooed pound of me), and I know it (and have known it my whole life) in every breath I take. I am so grateful for this.   

Wherever you are, mom (Tel Aviv??), Happy Mother's Day. I love you with every breath I take.