12.

i never was a crier. between high school and now i can only recall crying twice because of my parents: one instance each. with my dad it was just the day his conservative-catholic values thoroughly conflicted with my own. with my mom, it was during her time away for nearly two months to be with my newly born brother, Gabriel, as he recovered from his open-heart surgery. there was only one night in all of that that she came home and when she did i put my head in her lap and just bawled. i’d like to think they were happy tears. this doesn’t define the difference in the relationships i have between my parents but it certainly illustrates the stronger emotions i have felt with either. not every mother is as good as mine and not every conservative father has been as patient with their children on the opposite end of every political scale. i’ve argued with both of them about casual nothings and serious issues. neither of them purports to be a feminist. they  can both be homophobic and a tad racist in ways they don’t know how to recognize, but they have been good parents. they deserve gifts. this was the obvious and right way to go with this project, to a place of gratitude without undertones of sarcasm and wrath and the overturning of generations.

gifts for mothers