Dear mom,

You’ve known me the longest. You had a big role in making me. I was one part you and one part Dad. One part breath, one part earth. Your womb was the kiln I found my true form in.

I was one of 3, byt you always made me feel like the top of that triangle, the high point of our five-pointed star.

I remember you bought the anthology of young writers when, in 5th grade, my poem about winter was published in it.

You knew I’d get into Luther, but you forced, forced me to choose a back up school. Still believing while going over my financial package, with Dad, on our Windows desktop in the living room, that I could make that driftless dream come true.

After coming home from our church’s mission trip to Juarez, I thought you didn’t take me seriously when I said I wanted to go into the Peace Corps after college. But when I was boarding the plane to South Africa wearing my life-sized backpacking backpack, I knew your tears were partly of maternal pride.

You were there when I was in-patient and cracked jokes about the hospitilization experience. How the little library on the ward had barely any books and included the Uglies series and The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People.

You were there when I became a teachers, got my masters and licensure in a year. You were right there cheering me on as I moved from school to school, tirelessly looking for my teaching home.

And you supported me as I published my book of poetry, and pitched it to an editor. You always listened to my words and said they always struck you as insightful and inspiring. I knew I always had an audience.

Now, I’ve learned that you’d still be with me, be my bright shining moon, in the darkest of nights. When I was a way from home, you always said to look for the moon and know that you’d be looking at the same moon.

When you got cancer, I knew I had to keep looking for the moon, for myself and for you.

The moon is always in the sky, no matter the stormy weather. You held the moon in the sky for me so I could always find my way, even if the path led far from home, or from what I thought home was.

For always being my moon, I love you.