As a toddler, I used to sneak into my mom’s bathroom, grab her GreatLash brownish black mascara, and smear it all over my face to make myself pretty like her. I had a mini ironing board and iron — no heat of course — and a mini Dust Devil vacuum cleaner so that I could “help” my mom with chores. I spent hours playing in my toy kitchen, making spaghetti, croissants, potatoes and everything else I ever saw her make.
My mom is the nicest woman I’ve ever met. If you see her in public, she’ll smile at you, whether you’re her closest friend or she’s never met you in her life. Her smile lights up the room and eases my stress instantly. My entire life, I’ve wanted to be exactly like her.
She’s always volunteered at my school, gone on all of my field trips and taken me to all of my extracurricular activities. Despite how much she does for me, she never tries to hold it against me. It’s just how she is. She’s happy to do anything for me. I aspire to be as selfless and kind as she’s been to me my whole life.
A lot of people love their moms, but I can truly say that my mom is my best friend. She and I know each other so well that I can trust her with anything. She puts up with my daily rants without ever telling me that they’re stupid or unimportant. She’s always willing to make me an awesome homemade costume or stay up absurdly late watching episodes of “Dateline.”
She and I can make each other laugh over anything and everything. We have a million ridiculous inside jokes and can be totally goofy with each other without worrying about being judged.
She was there for me last spring when I tried out for a dance team that meant a lot to me. I’d spent over a year taking outside classes and practicing. When the day came to try out, she spent all day in the garage recording me from different angles, cheering me on and making sure that I stayed hydrated.
The next day, the roster came out and I found out that I hadn’t made the team. I was really upset, but my mom reminded me that just because one thing didn’t work out for me didn’t mean that I would never be good enough. She laid next to me and massaged my shoulders as I cried with disappointment. We spent the rest of the day thinking about what new things I could try. That’s why I joined the newspaper staff. She’s the reason that I know how to get back up when I’m knocked down.
I’ll take this knowledge with me in a couple short years when I go to college. While it’s exciting to think about all of the new possibilities that come with college, I’m also really nervous about leaving my best friend. So I make sure that I spend all the time with her that I can until that day.
I know that, even after I move out, she’ll only be a phone call away, but our relationship won’t be the same. It can’t. We won’t be living in the same house, able to talk about random things and spend days running errands and thrifting for things we don’t need. Hearing her voice won’t be the same as her hugging me and telling me everything will be fine.
I’m okay with that, though. I know that the dynamic of our relationship will change, but I also know we’ll be close forever, just like how she and my grandparents are. I know that she’ll always be there for me and I’ll always be there for her. Most of all, I know that she’ll be my best friend forever.
