I have probably never told you this, but there is nothing quiet or subtle in the way that you have always loved me. Even into my 30s, we still hold hands in public and you continue to kiss me on the lips.
I get teary eyed, sometimes, when I realize the effects on your love because I can see the evidence in newer generations. In the way that the first grandbaby, my younger sister’s son, hasn't forgotten the little games you play with him. Even though you both live several states apart. Picking right up where you last left off. Your love an indelible mark he will know for the rest of his life, as your own children do.
I marvel that my dog, an adopted blue heeler named appropriately “Lil Mama”, remembers the training you spent hours teaching her, even though we live in separate houses. Learning to sit and shake, despite not having been a puppy for some time. Still haunted by the abuse of her former owner, she was initially a little wary of me but you loved her from first sight. And instinctively she somehow knew you could be trusted. Yours is a love that conquers all.
You continue to be so smart, so shrewd, and so intelligent. You double checked and edited all my school papers, corrected my spelling before spell-check was even a thing. You helped with my math homework showing equal aptitude for numbers as well as grammar. Being bilingual, you also double checked my Spanish homework. You urged us into becoming engineers like yourself, but also continue to support our artistic endeavors.
I love you Mom. Every day. Nonstop.