My perfect dysfunctional family

Once a year, but well said

You already know I am not the kind of person who says “I love you” every 2 minutes and I prefer gestures before words. Ok, maybe I am saying “I love you” when I need something, but it’s involuntary. I think. I hope. I am a cold person, more rational than starry-eyed, but lucky me, expressiveness is helping me (although I was told I have a weird one. Define “weird”, please.).
Leaving the joke aside, there is someone in my life who has 2 birth dates. My grandpa birthdaywanted his daughter to be younger, this is the cute version. It was weekend and he didn’t declare her on August 29th, but on September 1st. So, my mother has two birth dates, one official and another from my grandpa’s generosity.
I am not good at saying emotional words to her, but I will try to tell her in my way, that sometimes even if I am the black/gray/beige family’s sheep, I really love her. Here I am, disarmed!
I rarely call my mother, most of the times calling because I have a doubt or I am asking her some things I can’t even pronounce. She is my encyclopedia. I am proud of this. From food, geography, coffee stains, history, blah blah blahs, she knows them. This woman is amazing.
If I ever had a femininity example, it was my mother. From her, I learned to not leave my house like I would’ve been chased by dogs, two thunderstorms, and 4 Vikings. She has legs to die for, so my love for shoes is because of her. I am thanking you for that. So is my passion for lipstick. Well, if I decided red as my law, that is totally different.
I started reading (not for studies) because of my mother. She always had a book near, andgetting old as long as the road home – work was, she was reading. Newspapers, books, magazines, anything. My mother reads.
To no purpose, a woman is smart and good looking if she has no idea about the kitchen. I learned to cook from my grandma, but my boost and first cookery books came from my mother. The first pages are signed by her. Trusting that, firemen won’t come at our door was huge.
If I were to tell you all the reasons for what I am thankful to her, this post would have 5 pages. But I will keep some things for me, selfishness is called ☺. Happy birthday, dear mother! I love you!
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