Why I Love My Mom
My mom and I were about to pull up to the lake house after nearly 40 minutes of driving. It was absolutely pouring out and we could barely see the road. The van in front of us stopped and a man jumped out and stepped up to our car. He barely spoke a word of English.
As soon as my mom heard “Chicago”, she said to him, “follow me” and motioned with her hand. He gratefully jumped in his car with his family and we headed back out into the storm, navigating them through a crazy detour. When we reached Hwy 11, Mom jumped out into the rain, handed them a little map and pointed towards the interstate.
The man tried to leave my Mom with a twenty dollar bill as he smiled very gratefully and said “por gasoline, gasoline!” She shook her head, said “no, no, no”, smiled and climbed back into the car.
As we drove back to the lake house (again) it dawned on me that she didn’t even hesitate to help. It never even occured to her to do anything else. Not for a minute.
And that’s why I love her.
