I could wax eloquently about my Mum for quite some time. She is quirky, beautiful, creative and a myriad of other things. Above all, she is amazing, beyond the fact she is sixty years old, wears smallers jeans than I, is four inches taller than I and has a inch and a half bigger space between her thighs. (Just for the record: that is wrong in seventeen different ways!)

My Mum is one of the most generous people I know. I spent last night drinking tea and laughing with her, but I was reminded how very generous she is with... everyone. She tries to expand the horizens of everyone around her, she shares with the little tiny things that mean much to her, in hopes of making their day a touch brighter or their life a little more colorful. A cup of tea, a old book, a bit of cheese. Strangers, family, children, whomever. She gladly shares what she has.

I could go on. There are many amazing things about her, all of which I cannot do justice with my pitiful writings. That is what I want to be like when I am sixty.


Minus the brightly colored hair.