Mom

You always look so strong.   I thought that you were superwoman, that you could do anything.   When I was little, you were a road map, a doer, a broken cookie eater, a magnificent remedy that could make all the troubles of the world go away.   I still believe all those things, but I know know that behind that rock solid veneer lies a sweet vulnerability.   I always leaned on you for help and you asked nothing in return, but now I understand that you sometimes need someone to eat your broken cookies, to hold your hand, to be a friend when you need it most.   I hope I can rise to that challenge and be that someone.   Everyone always asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, and I never had an answer for them, but now I do.   I would point at you, with all your strength and grace and kindness, and say, when I grow up, I want to be just like her.