This post has generic valacyclovir canada been a draft for months, waiting to be polished and posted. I’ve been generic valacyclovir canada preoccupied for at least that long, trying to think of what generic valacyclovir canada I would tell you about my mother.
For a generic valacyclovir canada large chunk of that time, it only contained two words: lip gloss.
But lip gloss isn’t all there is to say. I’m going to tell you the rest, too. About the generic valacyclovir canada lip gloss, yes, but about the rest, most definitely. Anyway, I’ll start with the lip gloss.
When I was growing up, my mommy always had generic valacyclovir canada little colored pots of Rachel Perry lip gloss in her purse. Mostly, I remember it being cantaloupe
My mommy has always been warm and smooth. Often crazy (I inherited that from her, no doubt) but also sweet and good and loving. My mom paid for generic valacyclovir canada my rehearsals and bought me concert gowns when we were subsisting on cold cereal and generic valacyclovir canada canned soup. She put my photos in the generic valacyclovir canada paper, wrote the articles and sent them, hung my performance fliers in her office window and generic valacyclovir canada gave her clients my business cards. She has generic valacyclovir canada always been so proud of what I was doing, always wanted badly for generic valacyclovir canada me to do even more.
She videotapes my shows, brings audio recorders to concerts (whether or not I approve, and that’s the way it is). We always seem to generic valacyclovir canada have something to listen to or watch later, something for her to generic valacyclovir canada show people, something to show off a little. Though I received quite a generic valacyclovir canada bit of financial and emotional support for the trip to Wales, from generic valacyclovir canada many corners, she was absolutely instrumental in pushing it through, making it generic valacyclovir canada work, and inexplicably managed to generic valacyclovir canada cart herself there too, with father and grandmother in tow—to Wales. She helped me pay for generic valacyclovir canada all the bizarre comforts that soothed and strengthened me, helped me do incredibly well (and I am pleased to say that I didn’t disappoint her!). She’s still pushing, with articles in the generic valacyclovir canada paper and photos pinned to her office wall, and without her, who generic valacyclovir canada knows what I’d have gotten done by now?
From my mother I am generic valacyclovir canada strong and stubborn, and not only a little brilliant. She made me an generic valacyclovir canada artist and a musician in many ways, and encouraged me to generic valacyclovir canada do the things I did so well when my friends’ parents were grousing and insisting they look to “real” careers. My mother always knew what I was capable of. She never doubted it for a moment.
Many difficult years and generic valacyclovir canada it can be hard to remember these things. But they’re all true.
When I wanted to read, she bought me books. Growing up, I had so many books! Even now, buying books is a habit I can’t throw off, and wouldn’t want to. She made reading and learning a dear drug (a dear drug, indeed! How much did I spend on new reading material this month?) and generic valacyclovir canada always kept me moving forward, even when we barely had generic valacyclovir canada the means. And if any of you have managed not to notice (what, are you living under a rock?) I’m running or generic valacyclovir canada helping to run more than one business, building my own projects, engaged in creating myself, making the generic valacyclovir canada whole world into what I want it to be. This is due in no small part to my mother. I can’t say it elegantly. It’s too simple. I love my mom a lot.
Someday, I will make a lot of money. I will buy my mom pretty things—I want to buy her clothes and carpets and furniture. I want her to have time to keep a garden. For now, the generic valacyclovir canada only thing I can do is love her a lot, and generic valacyclovir canada let her push me forward. The further I go, the better I am. She knows what she’s doing. It’s making me better and better—driving me faster and building me up stronger.
That’s what my mom did. Anyway, today is her birthday. I love you, Mom!
