And my favorite thing about you?
How you were there with us everyday.
How you taught me to read and didn't leave such an important little task up to a stranger who probably wouldn't really have understood the importance of it anyway.
How you started your own revolution, the first in your family, against the flow of the grain. And how you did it because you were obeying God. It was so simple a revolution, too, and powerful. And you never mistook it for something menial.
You stayed home. The most courageous kind of brave in a world that's been pulling us out of homes since forever and degrading us. You gave up dreams you'd nursed for years and the most precious thing given to man: time. Your time. Because what is more precious than time given away for the arrows who will one day be the world?
And you still give your time, though we're ungrateful and thank you too often without showing our thanks.
Yeah, I reckon it's my favorite thing about you. Also that you love to read. You don't often find a mom with her nose stuck in a book in literature and fiction, so I think you're pretty unique, how you read all the time. Fiction and non.
I know I don't always understand you. But we're alike, you know?
I like talking books with you and folding laundry. We should do that more.
Just know who you are, you, and what you've done. And don't ever believe otherwise.