This year I decided I wanted something different. Something very different for Christmas.
I'd had these two oil paintings my mother did piled up with junk in the basement. Almost forgotten about them. One's of me at age six. The other's of another little redheaded girl wearing a pink hat.
My bf's mom died a year ago tomorrow (Dec 27th). It's been a rough year for Robin. She's talked to me about the things she misses--watching her mom's hands sew, cook, and paint. Robin misses being able to call her mom to tell her silly stuff. You know, the tiny things that you only tell someone special.
So, I got to thinking about what REALLY matters. I dusted off these 40-year-old paintings and I had them custom framed. For me. For Christmas. You should have seen my mom's expression when she saw them yesterday! She traced the little girls' expressions and said, "They aren't even good. Why'd you do this?" I could see she already understood why. ♥♥♥
"Because YOU painted them."
She smiled. I smiled.
I wanted her to know how much she matters to me. As I've watched Robin miss her mom this year, I experienced a new gratitude for my own mom.
Is there somebody special who needs to know how much you love them?