Conversations With My Mom
These are the conversations I want to remember—shared with my dear mom, whose faith, joy, and perspective continue to shape my heart.
March 25, 2026
I talk to my mom every single day—some days more than once, even if it’s just for a few minutes. I call her on my way to work, on my way home, while I’m getting ready in the morning or winding down at night, when I’m cooking, or when the house is quiet on my day off.
Every time, the conversation flows. Some days we have a lot to say; other days, we talk about almost nothing. What did you have for breakfast? How did you sleep? Have you talked to anyone today? And then there are the deeper conversations—the ones that carry a little more weight.
Some days there are tears (mine 😅). Other days, we laugh… a lot. But no matter what our days look like, we always end the same way: “I love you.” And with that, a deep sense of gratitude for the gift of having each other.
She’s two hours behind me now that I’m in Chicago, so I try to be mindful of when I call. Although, if I ever called her at 3 a.m., she would gladly say, “Don’t worry, this is a perfect time—we can talk, sweetheart!” That’s my mom in a nutshell.
This morning, I called while having my first cup of coffee. It’s my day off, so I could actually sit and enjoy the conversation. As always, she was so happy to hear my voice—you’d think we only talk once a month by the way she greets me.
The moment she answered, she said, “Guess what??? We have Netflix now!!!”
They’ve always had cable and other streaming options, but not Netflix. When she visited me in Chicago, I introduced her to a few shows—and she fell in love with them. Her favorite? Young Sheldon. She absolutely loves it.
My brother set it up for her the night before, assuming he’d need to manage everything for her. My mom is legally blind, with very limited vision, so navigating on her own isn’t easy. But she told him she wanted to try using her special remote—the one she speaks into to find shows on YouTube—and see if it would work with Netflix.
Well… it worked.
She was practically shouting with joy when she told me. “I asked for Young Sheldon first,” she said. “I’ve been laughing all morning. This is so great—I’m overjoyed to have Netflix now!”
And then she added something that stayed with me: “I know it’s not a big, huge thing, but it is to me. I recognize the gift of noticing the small blessings in life.”
Amazing. ❤️
We kept talking, moving from one story to another, until she began sharing memories of her grandmother—Nana Luisa—whom she loved deeply, and who loved her just as much.
She told me how Nana Luisa was diagnosed with dementia, and how, as the disease progressed, her personality changed—but her sweetness never left her. When she came to live with my grandmother and the family, my mom—then a teenager—would sometimes head out the door for school or work. And Nana Luisa would stand in front of her, arms stretched wide, and say, “Stop! You’re not going anywhere—you’re going down the wrong path.”
And anyone who knows my mom knows… if there’s one person who has not gone down the wrong path, it’s her.
Still, my mom remembers those moments with so much tenderness. Even as her grandmother’s mind faded, their love never did. It remained steady, gentle, and full—right to the very end.
And as I sat there, listening to her stories, I realized that love like that doesn’t disappear—it carries itself forward, from one generation to the next, showing up in simple conversations, shared laughter, and the quiet, faithful rhythm of calling each other every day.
January 31, 2026
I called my mom on my way home from work today. She answered, enthusiastically as always, and immediately congratulated me on becoming a mom 28 years ago. “It feels as if it were yesterday that you welcomed your first child into the world,” she said. “I remember that day exactly.”
She told me she remembers waiting in a “beautiful” (her word 😊) hospital waiting area while I was in labor. She remembers how beyond thrilled I was to have my first baby—how I was glowing with joy. Stan was wearing a yellow checkered shirt, and a dear family friend was with them as they waited for the new arrival.
Then a nurse finally came into the waiting room and said to my mom, “Congratulations, Grandma—it’s a girl!”
My mom said, “I had never heard sweeter words. I was ecstatic!”
She ended our call by saying, “We’re celebrating today with lasagna, salad, and apple pie in Michelle’s honor. This is a special day that deserves a special celebration.”
January 30, 2026
I called my mom this morning, and before I could even ask how the visit went, she exclaimed, “Oh my goodness—wait until I tell you about last night! You were right. He’s a gem. So thoughtful, gentle, a wonderful conversationalist, and incredibly sweet.”
She shared that when they arrived, my friend’s son greeted her with such warmth. They made coffee, and my friend prepared sourdough toast with peanut butter and sliced bananas. They arrived around 7 p.m. and didn’t leave until 11—and even then, my mom said, “We could have talked for another two hours.”
“He’s so unique and so kind,” she told me. “He was genuinely interested in my life story—asking questions, really listening, fully engaged the entire time. And then I said, ‘Enough about me—tell me about you. What are your plans? Your goals? How are you?’”
Before they left, my mom told him he was welcome to come back and visit anytime. “There’s a special light about him,” she said. “I don’t know what it is exactly, but his light comes from within.”
And honestly… I couldn’t agree more.
P.S. My friend’s son is 26 or 27 and in medical school, on his way to becoming an orthopedic surgeon. And yes—there really is something special about him.
January 29, 2026
I called my mom tonight, and as we were chatting she suddenly said, “Give me a second—my landline is ringing.” She answered, and I could hear the excitement in her voice.
“Hi! Are you outside? Oh no… you want to stop by? Sure—of course! I can’t wait to see you!”
When she came back, I asked, “Who was that, Mom?”
“Janet!” she said. “She’s stopping by with her son—she wants to introduce us.”
I smiled and said, “Okay, I’ll let you go so you can get ready for their visit.”
“Okay, thanks,” she replied. “I want to change into a nicer sweater. I have my house sweater on, but I want to look a little nicer before they arrive. Love you. Bye. Call me tomorrow and I’ll tell you how the evening went.”
Before hanging up, I said, “Mom, I’m so excited for you. You are going to love her son—he’s a gem.”
P.S. Janet has been my childhood friend since junior high, and I love that even though I now live more than 2,000 miles away, she has stayed so deeply and beautifully connected to my family.
