I'm thankful for the way your heart shows up in me. Because of you, I can cry without embarrassment (It's God's way of helping us clean our eyes out), and I love without fear. You taught me to believe in the good in everyone. You taught me the best way to treat others. (Be good to each other!)
You always encouraged me to embrace art and beauty. I learned how to sing harmony by sitting next to you in church and listening to your sweet alto voice. I learned how to play piano and baritone horn because you toted me all over town to lessons and band practice. You encouraged me to write like your father did, and you always said I inherited his ability to tell a great story.
You're beautiful, Mom. You have impossibly youthful skin, and it seems you just get more fabulous every day. By the way - thanks for the genes. I still get carded, and nobody believes I'm almost 40. Also, I never have to buy skincare products, so I can afford to drink Maker's Mark. (I'm sure you're thrilled about that!)
Mom, you added words to my vocabulary. Thanks for "uff da" and "rigmarole" and "gallivanting" and "clutter noise". I try not to use these words around my friends too much, but in secret I say them all the time.
You would think that, with all this evidence, I'd have no reason to question my lineage. But, Mom, you love cantaloupe. You really love it. And I have also seen you eat cottage cheese without gagging.
Tell me the truth. Am I adopted?