I think everyone has a different definition of a Mom. Even when you use words like “kind” and “comforting” and “caring,” I think there’s always a more deeply rooted definition for each individual person.

Maybe not so much a definition as memories and feelings that are tied to each adjective you use.

When I think of my Mom as comforting I remember all the times she was my shoulder to cry on. As a little kid when I got stung by a bee and ran crying into her arms to even now when the world can feel so overwhelming. She’s there to give me a hug and remind me that everything will be okay.

When I think of my Mom as strong and hardworking I think of how she’d work long hours so she and my Dad could provide my siblings and I with everything we needed growing up.

When I think of my Mom as creative I imagine all the fun craft projects she’s made over the years. I picture her at her kitchen table or sitting on the patio sketching, carving and painting cute little yard ornaments and center pieces.

When I think of my Mom as smart I remember all the times we’d sit by the campfire and talk about the wonders of space while gazing up at the stars. Maybe we didn’t talk hard science but I feel like we were being philosophical and that totally counts.

When I think of my Mom as funny I remember all the silly jokes we’d make while doing projects around the home. She always knows how to make me laugh even with the simplest of things and even when I’m so upset I don’t think anyone can make me crack a smile.

I can use so many different words to describe my Mom with memories attached. Ever since I came into this world almost 22 years ago she’s been there for me to offer guidance.

She’s even a large reason why I have this job. I can still remember sitting down with her and looking over the different classes I could take my freshman year of high school. I was bouncing around a few different electives (I was and still am indecisive when it comes to my interests) when she suggested I take Introduction to Journalism.

She knew I enjoyed writing and even when I expressed my doubts she said, “You might learn something to help your writing.” I might be paraphrasing that quote a little but that’s in a nutshell what she said.

It’s because of her that I learned how much I love journalism and being a reporter. If she hadn’t convinced me to take that class I genuinely don’t know if I’d have found this career.

I know for some the idea of turning out to be just like your Mom is a dreadful thought and I can understand that. But if I turn into half the adult my Mom is one day, then I’ll be proud.

Because she’s everything I aspire to be.

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Laura Jameson is a staff reporter for The Express.