Growing up I wasn’t always the easiest teenager.\u00a0 I was stubborn, fiercely independent and ridiculously tenacious.\u00a0 I thought I knew everything. I thought I didn\u2019t need anyone to watch out for me.\u00a0 And even though my parents were aware I didn\u2019t want anyone watching out for me, every night I went out I would come home to find my mother sitting at the kitchen table, reading her latest book, eating a bowl of popcorn.\u00a0 She always tried to pretend that she wasn\u2019t waiting up for me and that she just happened to still be reading her book\u2026.but the woman had 10 children to care for all day and had to be utterly exhauseted so I always knew that she very much was waiting up to see me get safely home.\u00a0 But I would play the game and go along with her charade and we would sit and finish her bowl of popcorn together and she would let me share details of my night out with her.\u00a0 I am certain she just wanted to climb in bed but she never let me feel that at the time.<\/p>\n
It wasn\u2019t until I became and adult and a mother myself that significance of my mother\u2019s actions really hit me \u2013 the appreciation it gave me for her is something I don\u2019t know quite how to put into words.\u00a0 So even though I am not a poet by any means (so excuse my amateur with this), I decided to write a little poem to express what her actions meant to me \u2013 hopefully she reads my blog and will see this \ud83d\ude42<\/p>\n
You gave me room to grow<\/p>\n
You taught me what was right,<\/p>\n
Yet you always waited up for me<\/p>\n
\u00a0Late into the night.<\/p>\n
You sat at the kitchen table<\/p>\n
Reading your latest book,<\/p>\n
Having a bowl of popcorn<\/p>\n
Trying not to look<\/p>\n
Worried about my safety<\/p>\n
Or my spiritual wherewithal,<\/p>\n
Praying I would be protected<\/p>\n
Asking God not to let me fall.<\/p>\n
When I would finally come home<\/p>\n
As tired as you had to be<\/p>\n
You would sit and talk for hours<\/p>\n
And let it be \u2018all about me\u2019.<\/p>\n
It wasn\u2019t until later in life<\/p>\n
I realize what it meant<\/p>\n
The love you showed to me<\/p>\n
In that little time you spent.<\/p>\n
You made me feel important<\/p>\n
Safely watched for in your care.<\/p>\n
And that silly bowl of popcorn<\/p>\n
Remains an image, forever there.<\/p>\n
It\u2019s tucked inside my memory<\/p>\n
And when I\u2019m faced with a trial<\/p>\n
I know for certain my mom will be waiting<\/p>\n
With popcorn, a book, and a smile.<\/p>\n
I love you Mom.\u00a0 Thanks for always being there for me.\u00a0 Thanks for always waiting up for me. Thanks for pretending not to be tired and for talking with me into the night.\u00a0 Thanks for making my world feel secure by showing me that I always had a mother at home waiting for me to return safely.\u00a0 I love you forever.<\/p>\n
Love,<\/p>\n
Amy<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Growing up I wasn’t always the easiest teenager.\u00a0 I was stubborn, fiercely independent and ridiculously tenacious.\u00a0 I thought I knew everything. I thought I didn\u2019t need anyone to watch out for me.\u00a0 And even though my parents were aware I didn\u2019t want anyone watching out for me, every night I went out I would come […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":3849,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_exactmetrics_skip_tracking":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_active":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_note":"","_exactmetrics_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[4503,1982,1203,1204,999,753,240,4501,3459,51,189,3764,4010,35,32,990,138,415,4499,4505,1770,143,3053,3060,4504,1096,1546,1410,4500,2615,496,4506,3008,78,344,938,4502],"class_list":["post-4783","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-adulthood","tag-book","tag-care","tag-caring","tag-child","tag-childhood","tag-children","tag-curfew","tag-expression","tag-family","tag-friends","tag-growing-up","tag-leslie-rees","tag-love","tag-memory","tag-mom","tag-mother","tag-motherhood","tag-my-mom","tag-nurture","tag-parenthood","tag-poem","tag-popcorn","tag-pretend","tag-reading","tag-sacrifice","tag-safe","tag-safety","tag-secure","tag-security","tag-self-worth","tag-spent","tag-teenager","tag-time","tag-trial","tag-value","tag-waiting-up"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.amyreesanderson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4783","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.amyreesanderson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.amyreesanderson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.amyreesanderson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.amyreesanderson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4783"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.amyreesanderson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4783\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4784,"href":"https:\/\/www.amyreesanderson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4783\/revisions\/4784"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.amyreesanderson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/3849"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.amyreesanderson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4783"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.amyreesanderson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4783"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.amyreesanderson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=4783"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}