A Mother’s Day Tribute: The Woman Who Gave Me Magic

Today is Mother’s Day, and I find myself reflecting on the extraordinary love of the woman who gave me life — my mom. She was quiet, introverted, and deeply thoughtful, a gentle soul who found her voice in books and passed her love of reading to me. From science fiction to Omni magazine and even Cosmopolitan, she showed me the world through stories, and we bonded over shared favorites like Star Trek, spending peaceful afternoons side by side, immersed in imagination.

In those early years, it was just me and my mom most days — my dad worked long hours, and the world was ours. She would bake birthday cakes from scratch, letting me sit on the counter and lick the beaters. One cake, made for a neighbor, was adorned with real geraniums and white frosting. It was so beautiful, it left a lasting imprint on my heart. To this day, I still adore fresh flowers on cakes, a tribute to that moment of shared magic.

She threw me a perfect 5th birthday party at Golden Gate Park with my little neighbor friend. We sat on a blanket, surrounded by blue hydrangeas, eating the cake she lovingly made. That peaceful childhood was full of beauty, books, unconditional love, and the safety of being known, cherished, and protected. During those years, I felt nothing could hurt me. I felt powerful. Magical. My whole body buzzed with a feeling of well-being, like joy was alive inside me.

But what stands out the most is this: My mom loved me purely and deeply, even though she had survived emotional and psychological abuse in her own childhood. Somehow, she broke the cycle. She gave me what she never had. That kind of generational healing is the truest testament to her strength and beauty.

Later in life, things changed. My father left, and my mom — now a single mother with no support, no resources, and no child support — did everything she could to keep us going. We descended into poverty. Her nervous system became dysregulated from years of chronic stress, and she lost her ability to cope. Eventually, we lost our tiny cabin in the woods, and with that loss came instability that shaped the rest of our lives.

As a teenager, I often didn’t understand her exhaustion or her inability to hold a job. I judged her silently. I didn’t know then what I know now — that her health was already failing. Years later, I found out she had 3 brain tumors, which likely explained her changes in behavior, her emotional volatility, and the loss of the warm, nurturing personality I remembered from childhood. After her brain surgery, I had a glimpse — just for two weeks — of the mom I knew as a little girl: compassionate, emotionally present, and full of love.

Today, I feel deep compassion for her. I carry no anger. Only love. The unconditional love she gave me as a child laid the foundation for who I am today: someone who wants to help others feel loved, connected, and emotionally whole.

I am forever grateful for those early years of magic, joy, and being seen.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. I see you. I honor you. And I carry your love forward.