My mom called me last night. Now you may not think much of this, but mom calling me in the middle of the week in the evening is enough for me to think about grabbing the keys and heading for whatever hospital she’s been admitted to. It just doesn’t happen unless something’s wrong.
So why is it important that she called? She wanted to tell me that she’d just finished reading my book “Akashan’te”. Which almost had me grabbing my keys to run myself to the emergency room. Because my mom doesn’t read books. Ever. It’s just not something she does (I got my love of books and the written word from Dad). It took her several weeks to read it.
She wanted to call me and tell me how much she liked it. And that it amazed her that I could do something like that (okay, that one hurt a little, but taken in the light of what she was trying to say, I’ll take it as a compliment). And that she was proud of me.
Gulp. What? She was proud of me? Again, not something Mom ever says. Not even when I graduated from college (first in the family). Or went on to get my Master’s. Or… for any other accomplishments I (or my siblings) did. She was proud of me? Wow. Going for those keys again.
Before you think my mom is a mean person, she’s not. She’s one of the most giving people I know. Just not verbally. Her way of saying something nice is to bake you something incredibly good. Or give you a gift. Something tangible. Words have no value to her. So for her to say these things meant a lot more to me than they might to many people. It meant more than the great reviews (though I love them!) and the pats on the back from friends. Because I knew how difficult this was for her to say.
My mom called last night to tell me how much she liked my book. This is something I will remember for the rest of my life.
May you have a great day like that.