I recently came across a book titled “She,” by Kobi Yamada. It’s a compilation of statements about women’s nobel desires, admirable talents and praiseworthy convictions.
Good books do something magical to my heart. They can make me love, laugh, hate, cry, reflect and reevaluate. This one has me aspiring — aspiring to be “She.”
I’ve learned many valuable lessons from my mother. As I sat on my bed attempting to mend a hole in a J. Crew shirt on Sunday, I was grateful my mother taught me how to handle a needle and thread. The shirt itself reminded me of the sense of style I also learned from her. Classy shops like Talbot’s have long been beneficiaries of her frequent patronage, but she’s no stranger to bright hues and sassy styles. My zebra-print flats are evidence that I’ve tried to follow in her fashion footsteps.
As she wears Boden sweaters, Talbot’s tops and Buckle shoes, she’s constantly teaching me one of life’s most important lessons: the value of service.
She devotes her days to helping others appreciate their talents and recognize their potential. My 7- and 9-year-old brothers are the current recipients of her tireless efforts. Somehow she is able to see past the gallons of mac and cheese, hours of piano plunking and cello squeaking, and mountains of plastic army men strewn across the couch to the essence of these little boys. She recognizes who they can become, and she sacrifices her life to help them see it, too.
That is the work of a mother.
For me, she sat through dance recitals, hosted elaborate birthday parties, french-braided long blonde hair and feed me a steady stream of classic literature because she saw more in me than I could.
So here’s to my mother, and all mothers, who teach us to embrace our talents, recognize our power and believe that what we do matters. And here’s to hoping that our achievements and actions as adults help them feel the same about themselves.
What you’re doing matters.