My mother is one bad ass chick. She has been known to go toe to toe with bikers in rough and tumble desert bars. If you give her any lip, expect to be splashed with pool water and for her to laugh about it. She once crashed a gay wedding and told everyone she knew the bride. When you see her, you might just figure: “Oh, she looks like a nice lady.” Well, she is a nice lady. I’d just keep both eyes open if I were you.
While she can dish it out, my mother also has a great deal of compassion. Once, when I was little my mother took me to a busy Seattle post office. There was a line, as this was before the internet was used by everyone to send correspondence. As she waiting patiently, I informed her that I had to use the restroom. She told me to wait, and that it shouldn’t be much longer.
As we continued to wait, I informed her again but louder. She told me to quiet down and that we would be leaving soon. Finally, something snapped in me. I ran around to the outside and started banging on the window and screaming “I HAVE TO GO POO POO” repeatedly. Needless to say, we left the post office shortly thereafter and she was not happy about that. I am not too sure what this story has to do with compassion, but I think its funny and it is hard to make a joke about compassion. So there you go.
I could go on and on about the female that gestated me for 9 months.* She has always encouraged me in everything I do, and I owe a great amount of any success I have to her. I love you mom. Happy Mothers Day!
*interesting way to say mother!