My Mom Taught Me Gratitude

My mom taught me gratitude.

An art most dabble in. My mom spent her days becoming it’s mastered artist.

My mom taught me a ferocious love that spanned time, mistakes, distance. The fiercest of fires that could never be put out.

My mom preached the present moment. Be here, be now, be here. Now.

My mom taught me gratitude.

My mom taught me the power of forgiveness. How to uncurl the claws of the past so they couldn’t imprison my future.

My mom taught me early morning moments of joy. How to ease coffee’s bitterness and sip it as the world awoke around her.

My mom taught me beauty, letting her hair grow silver. Never apologizing for it. Speaking softly to the wrinkles that formed as we became reckless teens, heartbroken adults. Boasting age as proof of a fully-lived life.

My mom taught me to laugh with my head thrown back, cackling into the wind.

My mom taught me gratitude.

My mom taught me to stand tall amidst raging storms. To awaken the winds within my soul. To howl back louder.

My mom showed me beauty in letting things go. The power, strength, grace in giving away things that wouldn’t serve me.

My mom guided me towards friendship with nature. I learned how to hold hands with the rivers and speak to the trees.

And even though my heart hangs heavy with grief, drenched like laundry on the line I know life is still beautiful.

My mom taught me gratitude.