Probably every daughter thinks her mom is the most beautiful woman in the world, and I am inclined to think the same x200.
I love my mother’s hands. Her fingers, so accustomed to years of practicing across black and white keys, continue to play a melody on my own hands. Her music-making fingers are like magic, I hear the faint echoes of a Chopin sonata with no piano in sight. Though they have donned the battle scars of maneuvering the kitchen for so many years, her hands haven’t lost any of their grace or beauty.
She smiles easily and frequently, and has teeth so straight and white, you wouldn’t be surprised to learn that she’s married to a dentist. But, you would be surprised when you learn she’s never had braces or major dental work; her grins are au natural. I’ve seen random strangers pour out their life story to her because she exudes a welcome and calm, amplified with her smile, that makes people feel at home.
Over the years, I’ve also witnessed my momma sport numerous hair styles–mostly all of them some variation of the classic Korean ahjumma perm–but my favorite is her morning look. We used to joke it was her Cruella deVil/Einstein ‘do, but I love it. She sports the look during all the mornings she’s gotten up earlier to wake the house with wafts of frying egg and rich, radish soup.
She is much more than a domestic goddess. My mother has created and nurtured life through her selfless and humble heart, and tirelessly continues to do so. When I see the many memoirs out there of daughters writing on their mothers, I’m not surprised. If I could detail every gesture of love, grace, and sacrifice my momma has shown to me, it could easily be the next Tolkien trilogy. I will continue to write more and more of how thankful I am that you have taught me what it means to have steadfast faith, to love freely, to give graciously, and to dance weirdly. 엄마, 사랑해요. I wish I could give you this card in person but because I can’t, I will live and love well, just as you do.