“I’m turning into my mother,” is something I think about more frequently these days. If this thought has never crossed your mind, don’t worry young grasshopper, in due time it will.
I love my mom, but there are a few traits I wish I didn’t inherit from her. My propensity towards hoarding (you never know when you’ll need that!), my general indecision (I think maybe yes, perhaps no?), and worrying about the small stuff (there’s too many to name).
Yet for all the undesirable traits, she’s also passed off some of the better ones. Her strong attention to detail, her patience and kindheartedness, her artistic and creative endeavors. I learned to sew under her guidance and she gave me my first crochet needle which I still have. She taught me how to ride a bike when I was 26 (nope, I’m not too embarrassed to admit that). When I couldn’t convince any of my friends to attend a free swing dance class with me, my mom happily volunteered, and we danced under the stars in an unforgettable mother-daughter date. She has always been my biggest fan, urging me to embrace my creativity and travel far while I’m still young.
All too often I’ve seen her petite frame hunched over at the dining table, her small face behind wire rimmed glasses twisted into a look of concentration as she fiddles around on her tablet. She’s still getting used to technology. I look closely and see that fine lines have slowly etched themselves on her face. Her short hairdo, which had been jet black for the longest time while my dad’s turned white, has been increasingly salt and peppered more than I remember.
It’s safe to say that in her mid 60’s, my mom’s only style needs are comfort and low maintenance clothes that can withstand a little dirt from the garden or oil stain in the kitchen. Velcro Mary-Jane sneakers, faded mom jeans with the elastic waist band (she added that herself, thank you very much), baggy rumpled shirt, and a home sewn denim tote bag – this is her typical OOTD, all day, everyday. One wouldn’t know it by looking at her now, but my mom was once a very fashionable lady.
I get it from my momma: peachy in shades of grey | motherlover | i’m a hustler baby | dirty flirty birthday | I want you back | a turtleneck for the spring
Over the years I’ve pilfered a thing or two from her former stylish years, providing a glance into her past as each article of clothing holds sentimental value, igniting a memory from her past. She’d say things like, “That was my favorite summer dress,” or “I wore those shoes when I first stepped foot in Hong Kong.” There are probably a dozen other stories that lay hidden in the fibers of her old vintage threads, and every time I wear them, I feel a bit closer to my mom.
I know it always brings a smile to her face when she sees me sporting her old blouse or dress, giving new life to old pieces she once wore and loved. It’s as if she sees a piece of herself in me. For better or for worse, there’s no doubt I’m really becoming my mom.
Mom, if you’re reading this on your tablet, I love you! Happy Mother’s Day!