When I look back on my childhood, the person at the center of most of my memories is my mom. She shaped the way I experienced growing up, filling it with love, stability, and moments that felt special in ways I didn’t fully understand at the time. As I’ve gotten older, I realize that none of that happened on its own. It was all her.
As a single mom, she carried the responsibility of being both the emotional and financial foundation of our home, and somehow still made my life feel full of unconditional love.
She has a way of turning ordinary things into something memorable. Every holiday felt intentional and full of love and effort. Easter meant baskets and egg hunts, Valentine’s Day came with goodie bags, and Christmas was always magical. Diwali was celebrated with light and gifts, birthdays were thoughtfully planned, and Halloween always meant walking around in the freezing cold together until I was old enough to go off with friends.
Memories
One of my favorite memories that really captures this is when she took me to New York City for a week when I was 15 to see Harry Styles in concert. It wasn’t just the concert— it was the entire week. Walking around the city with her, exploring, and just being together made it what it was. It’s my favorite memory because it wasn’t about the event itself, but the time we got to spend together.
What stands out even more is that she did all of this while working full-time. She found a way to be present for everything. She volunteered for book fairs and field trips, showed up to every basketball game, every band and choir concert, and more. All of this, while working full-time and carrying the weight of providing and caring for our home. There were no pause buttons and no days off. She would come home exhausted and still be expected to keep everything running and answer the “what’s for dinner?” question without missing a beat.
Mom Magic
As I’ve grown up, I’ve started to see how much strength that really took. It’s easy to overlook the kind of work that isn’t obvious—the emotional support, consistency, and the ability to hold everything together. Those are the things that shaped my childhood the most.
She shaped the way I think and move through the world. She’s passionate about politics and always believed in standing up for what you believe in and being on the right side of history, and that mindset definitely rubbed off on me. At the same time, I fully inherited my love of music from her. Our house is filled with music from the ‘70s, ‘80s, and ‘90s (she argues these are the best eras of music, and I’d have to agree).
Growing up Together
Another thing I’ve come to appreciate is how our relationship has grown. Beyond everything she’s done for me, she’s also my best friend. She’s the person I call first when something good happens, and the one I turn to when things feel overwhelming. No matter what’s going on, talking to her has a way of making everything feel a little more manageable.
Growing up this way has also changed how I see mothers, especially those who are the main providers. There’s no clear guide for how to do it all, and so much of the work goes unnoticed. It’s not just about working hard—it’s about holding everything together, even when it feels overwhelming.
Looking back, I have a different understanding of what my mom was doing all those years. What once felt effortless was actually the result of constant effort, sacrifice, and resilience. She never asked for recognition, but she deserved it all along.
Watching her navigate life has reshaped how I define strength. It isn’t always loud or obvious; it shows up in consistency and perseverance.
With Mother’s Day coming up, I find myself thinking more intentionally about everything she’s done and everything she continues to do. Not just the visible moments, but the unseen ones that made all the difference.
More than anything, she’s the reason I understand what it means to work hard, stay grounded, and keep moving forward. And no matter how much life changes, one thing has stayed the same: sometimes, all you really need is your mom.