This is going to be yet another sappy post, so if you don’t like that, leave.
My mother. She is beautiful, talented, dedicated and reminds me a lot of myself. I guess cherries don’t fall far from the tree. I’m practically a spitting image of her. And though I love her to death, she drives me fucking insane. She’s always going on about how I fucked up and need to take responsibility for my actions (which I do…. Most of the time). She doesn’t listen when I need to rant, but only because she has bigger problems than I could fathom, which I’d rather not include here. Even if all of this drives me up the walls and through the ceiling, she supports me for who I am and what I do, and that’s what I love most about her. When I came out as not straight (I thought I was bisexual at the time), I told her I had a girlfriend and she just laughed and said “I didn’t know you were into that kind of thing”. She’s supported me in all of my theatre/musical endeavors, and my lack of interest in sports. At this point there’s nothing I could do to make up for what she’s done for me.
She’s been there for me my whole life, unlike any one father figure. But that’s a whole other subject. More about family tomorrow!