The other day I had to call my mom to ask her a question. (Heck, everyday I have to call my mother to ask her a question. How long to cook a potato. What cut of meat to buy for a stew. Should I buy this? Did I say the wrong thing. Etc.) On this day, my students overheard the end of the conversation: “Love you, mommy.”
They thought it was hysterical.
Even my coworkers thought I had suddenly sprouted a second head.
Apparently I’m too old to call her mommy. “Why don’t you call her by her first name?”
Sometimes I do. Sometimes I make up an extra addition to her name and call her Sarah Jane. Sometimes it’s Maj, and sometimes it’s Madre. It’s often Momma. But, I still break out mommy. As far as I’m concerned, she is my mom, maj, Sarah Jane, Momma, and mommy.
No matter how old I get, she is without a doubt the voice I trust the most.
After 28 years of seeking her advice, love, and wisdom first, I think it’s natural to call her what she is. So, as a detour from the progress that’s on my design wall, today I am celebrating my mommy.
She is the woman who taught me how to embroider when I was a tiny thing. She is the woman who bought me craft supplies even when money was tight. She is the woman who let me experiment with color, mess her kitchen up, and told me everything I made was beautiful. She is also the woman who gave me critique, made my eye sharper, and taught me to take pride in my work. “Garbage in, garbage out. Take your time, Ashley.”
She might not think so, because she is her own worst critic, but she is also where the art comes from in my DNA. She is clever with her design and knows how to make simple stunning. She is more subtle with color, but she taught me to be bold and always encouraged me to trust my instinct. In everything.
I mean, hello, she not only made the two beauties in this picture, but also the quilt behind them. My mother is talented, strong, and beautiful. So, today, everyday, all the time, I love you, Mommy. Thank you for all the Sculpey Clay when I was younger, the yarn, knitting needles, embroidery hoops, the fabric for my first quilt, the trips to art museums, and for teaching me to express myself always.
Love you, mommy.