What more is there to say. Thank you. Most people can go to their moms and say “thank you for giving birth to me” or “thank you for raising me”. Most people can recount stories of bedtime stories, after school cookies, school plays, summer vacations. When I thank my mom I say “thank you for opening your home to a messed up, somewhat surly teenager you didn’t know but you knew was in desperate need of a family. Thank you taking control and pushing me forward. Thank you for believing in me. Thank you for putting up with me.
Thank you, mom, for choosing to become my mother. Most people become the mothers of infants, tiny innocent things that don’t already know how to swear or hotwire cars and then they work to prevent this knowledge from seeping in for as long as possible. You took me in, already damaged and used, but it didn’t matter to you. And more importantly, you made it so it didn’t matter to me.”
This is how I say thank you to my mom. I cannot thank her for the bandages on scraped knees or monsters banished from under the bed. I can thank her for teaching me civility, grace, and how to set a table for a formal dinner party.
She taught me that no matter who you are or who you were, someone WILL take a chance on you.