To my mother.

Because it's her birthday.

Because she didn't want a gift.

Because I don't have a lot of money.

Because the money I have mostly came from her.

Because even if I were rich, she wouldn't ask for anything.

Because if I got her something, she'd find some way to pay me back.

Because all she really wants is to know that I care.

Because she reminded me very, very subtly.

(Because she didn't have to remind me at all.)

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Because she was the first person I saw every morning for eighteen years.

Because she was the first person I saw... ever.

Because she was the person I saw more than anyone else.

Because I don't get to see her so much anymore.

Because she took care of me when I was young and helpless.

Because she took care of me when I was young and naive.

Because she took care of me when I was young, and thought I wasn't.

Because she took care of me when I didn't think I needed to be taken care of.

Because she took care of me when I didn't realize I was being taken care of.

Because I'm half the country away and she's still taking care of me.

Because it's her birthday, but she wants to send me a gift.

(Because she's always thinking of me).

Because she worries.

Because she frets.

Because she calls see how I'm doing.

Because some people hate their parents.

Because I'll never be one of them.

Because I think I'm turning out all right.

Because she taught me to be pedantic about English.

Because a boy's best friend is his mother.

Because I'd totally stab a woman in the shower if she told me to.

(Because she'll appreciate a Hitchcock reference).

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Because babies can't talk.

Because toddlers take things for granted.

Because children are easily distracted.

Because teenagers are ungrateful.

Because young men are busy.

Because I'm not the sappy type.

Because I don't say these things often enough.

And because, as far as I'm concerned, it doesn't count unless everyone knows.

I love you, Mom. Thank you for everything. Happy birthday, and many more.