I love my mother. She’s the bravest, most courageous person I know. She’s terrifying when she wants to be and she’s the funniest person I’ve ever met.

My biggest fear in life is that I’ll lose her.

I didn’t ever think about that, really, until I was reading some women’s magazine as a teenager. There was a one page article, decorated with water-colored flowers, that talked about the effects of losing your mother. The one that hit home the most was picking up the phone to call her and not being able to. To this day, if I think about that for too long, I’ll feel the pinpricks of sadness in the back of my throat, the tears welling up behind my eyes.

I try not to think about it.

I hope she knows I don’t take her for granted. I had a dream about her the other night, and when I woke up, all I wanted to do was run into her room and wake her up and tell her how much I love her. (Granted, this would be impossible since we do not live in the same place anymore.)

I was reading this blog this morning, and the post hit home, just like that article so many years ago.

There are things that my mother and I share that no one will ever be able to take away, including this memory:

We’re young. Not sure how young. My mom and I are watching tv downstairs. My brother is exercising on the treadmill upstairs. All of a sudden, there’s a very loud thump and a scream. We go upstairs, and my brother is wedged between the treadmill and a desk, the treadmill still running. He’d tried to touch the treadmill while running, and predictably, had not managed to keep his footing and fallen.

When we tell this story, no one laughs. But my mom and I lose it every time, dissolving into giggles before the story’s even finished. I guess you must have had to be there. But it’s almost just as fun to watch the stone faces that we get in response.

So this week, when I saw this .gif, I knew I had to send it to her. 

I know it’s not funny.

But it’s so funny.