The (First) Time I Broke My Mother's Heart.

She overheard me tell my dad that he was the only one who could ever break my heart.  She thought it meant I did not love her enough.  Really what it meant was that I perceived, subconsciously in my selfish teenage heart, that she would never do anything that would ever break my heart.  She hadn't always been the perfect mom, but she has always loved me with a fierceness that I know hurts her.  Even though she can't always express it in words, I know she would do anything for me and never complain for a second no matter how much discomfort it might cause in her life.  She hurts just because it's possible that I might hurt.

To this day I feel at home just talking to my mom on the phone or online, and especially when I get off that bus in her city and she opens her arms to hold me.  She still cries almost every time.  No matter how many times I have hurt her, she never closes herself off to me.  So many times, I chose someone else over her.  I loved someone else more than her because his love was like an accomplishment, I had to work to get it and I had to work to keep it.  She opens herself to that risk every time.  In the deepest seat of her heart she is a mother and I have never doubted her.