To my mother, life is like a question and she's always seeking answers. To my mother, people are mysteries, and like an archeologist who digs for things left behind, or a pirate hunting treasure, she discovers what's inside. To my mother, pain and loss are part of what we endure, and she endures hers with grace, even when her heart is breaking. To my mother, the future can be frightening, but she values what she has in the moment--her children, her coffee, the way a piece of costume jewelry sparkles on her wrist.
My mother sees people as moving works of art, and she's always ready to lift them up or off a page and bring them to the stage. She can take an encountered moment, retell it like a dream, and be awed by all of it, day after day after day.
My mother is a great woman of the Universe and a kid from the Bronx. Her dark eyes will never tell you her secrets, but nothing is hidden. She lives underground, above the clouds and at the surface, and she is my treasure.