Mother’s Day

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When my mom was young she looked like a young Cher or Debra Winger circa “Terms of Endearment”.  She was single and young and I was her world.  We did everything together.  We took the camper to Yosemite, we went on dates with her boyfriends, we celebrated when she passed the CPA exam.  She took me the movies late at night with her best friend.  Afterwards we would go to the old Bob’s Big Boy and she would order me a root beer float.  I would drink until I passed out from exhaustion, sleeping on the big red pleather booth cushions.  I can remember her singing “You Are My Sunshine” to me.  She would tell me later that she left out most of the verses, they were too sad.  My mom worked long hours on the week days, but she made it up to me on the weekends.  We went to Monterrey so I could eat crab and play in the ocean.  We went to Castroville so we could share a serving of friend artichokes.  One year, our school put on a haunted house at Halloween.  They were looking for volunteers to help with the crafts.  My mom sat for hours meticulously cutting 3 inch pumpkins out of orange construction paper.  The pumpkins would eventually end up on the ground that night. I felt really bad about that.  If there was a bake sale, she baked.  If there was a kite day, she flew a kite.  If there was a school project, she made sure mine was the best.  I had the most books, the coolest bike, a Barbie corvette, and a Lite Brite.  But most of all, I had the best mom in the world.  Thank you for everything.

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Emma Leigh

Born and raised in San Jose in 1980. Writer, traveler, home cook, and business owner.

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