It still makes me choke every time i even see that word.
July 14. Marked on every calendar for years now as "another year, i love you tuff stuff"
you are my deepest weak spot, yet my most definite strength.
You never think you're beautiful, but look at you.
I love sitting back and just watching you cook. laugh. sing along and do your "snappy poke dance" to the cheesy bollywood songs. Every single thing you do is so graceful and beautiful. Even when you cuss, in 29384792 different languages, it's so cute. You're the woman I aspire to be. I love when you tell me that you still think about your first love, and all of your rebel stories from when you were young, I love when you speak, because your voice is so sweet and sincere, I love how excited you get when I tell you my friends are coming over and you automatically start cooking for them, I love how your eyes get swallowed by your cheeks when you smile, I -love- your impression of "sittin on da toilet", i love your accent, i love how the second i say something hurts, you freak out and comfort me in any way possible, I'm going to stop because i could keep going forever, I just love being able to tell people you're my mother. You are MY mother. I can't believe it. I will never be able to strip you from all of the abuse you have received your whole life, but you always suck it up and tell me you're smiling -just for me-. It's the sweetest. You're the sweetest. I love you mama san.
These weren't recent at all.
but damnit, YOU'RE SO CUTE.
Time for celebration brunch.
