Because she’s one of the few people I know who don’t seek attention and don’t try to be the center of the universe.
Because she’s unconventional in the way she thinks and she raised us up not to take everything for granted and not to take crap from anyone.
Because she didn’t spoil me as a kid despite being a good mom so that I don’t turn out a sissy.
Because she only forced me to eat twice when I was a kid. One of them was because I sprinkled sugar all over fried eggs so she was actually teaching me a lesson.
Because she’s the kind of mom who would give up all the money she’s been saving so that her son would not look back at some point in his life and regret not taking a risk.
Because she’s so creative and crafty, and she knows how to recycle things around the house in a way that is guaranteed to surprise.
Because she calls me at work to tell me not to eat because she’s made on of my favorite dishes, despite the fact that my brothers would eat up almost all of it by the time I came home.
Because when she’s away the house is cold and bleak, and once she comes back you can feel the difference from the moment you step inside.
And most importantly because, after all, none of the above reasons really matters, and I love her just because she’s her.