37 Letters

The Army did a lot of wonderful things for me, it paved the way for me to find my career, paid for two degrees, helped me find my husband, and in a lot of ways helped me find myself. The most amazing thing the Army did, however, was take me away from home. This might sound a little bit backwards, but the truth is if I had never left home, never gone to basic training, I never would not have in my hands today one of my most valued possessions. You see when I went away from home, for the very first time, and was away from my mom for the very first time, she wrote me. 37 letters she wrote me.  37 times on paper she told me about her day, about her friends, about my friends, and 37 times she told me that I was special to her and that she loved me. This might not seem terribly significant, but 1 year 10 months and 26 days after I left for the Army, my mom lost her battle with breast cancer. 

I would like to say that every memory of my mom is as clear as the day the memories were made, but now almost 12 years after her death, the memories have started to fade. Not the big memories of who she was but the little memories, the memories of her quirks and idiosyncrasies, the little things that remind me how much I am growing up to be like her. 

But then there are the 37 letters, 37 moments cemented in time for me to hold on to, for me to revisit whenever I want. Those letters are proof to me that time travel already exists; those letters are my time machine back to my mom, those are the memories that can never be erased no matter how much time goes by. These are the memories my children are guaranteed of the grandmother they never got to meet. 

So now today is Mother's Day and as we moms spend our days celebrating I challenge you to ask for one thing this Mother's Day and every Mother's Day to come. One hour. One hour to sit and write a letter to your children. Tell them about who they are and also about who you are. Tell them what your dreams are for them and for you. Spelling doesn't count, and it doesn't have to be anything fancy, although my mom loved colored paper and stickers, it just has to be a memory, one that you cement in time. Start your children's time machine now so that some day, when a day comes when you can't be together, they always have a way back to you. 

Happy Mother's Day