Mom

Mother
I grasped her hand and she awoke.
Sat staight up,
letting the covers fall,
breathless air filled her being.
It was the awakening only she could experience.
When I was a child,
I stood by her bedside,
and she knew I was there.
Through her sleep and her dream,
she could feel my presence.
Now I stand grown and watch her peaceful slumber.
I reach for something to grasp,
to hold on to.
When she looks at my slim frame standing there,
she knows.
She knows things that words can not say;
and somehow I know,
everything is going to be okay.

I don't look at my mother the same as the way as I look at my father. She is my all time best friend. Through the fighting and the bickering we remain this way, and will untill the day I die. She knows everything about me, the good and the bad, and she loves me still. I've put her on a pedistal, and there she will remain. This is the way I see my mom.

I remember my first tattoo. It was awsome. I've always been in love with tattoos, and now that I have a few, I love them more. My mom found out about the tattoo not long after I got it. She loved it. She loved it much more than I thought she ever would. She understood my passion, even if she didn't always agree with it. What I loved most was what she said when I asked if she would ever get one with me. She said yes. I think she agreed to do it more for me than for her, but I loved her for it anyway. I don't think she knows how much that promise ment to me, but I always looked at it as something she and I could do together that was completely me. She would do that for me. That's what I see when I look at my mother.