This woman has diligently driven every road within me. She has driven to the places of darkness where my life began, she has driven to mountaintops only to encourage me higher. She has walked and talked and tried her very hardest with me.

I am a complicated road, on an easy day. She has never stopped driving. Never.

It seems that finally all of the crowded rooms of our relationship are now spare; we can actually see each other for who we truly are.

Maybe my mother has always known who I am. I think I am only now beginning to know her.