I consider myself an extremely lucky person. I have a wonderful husband, Ken, to whom I can talk about anything. I have a remarkable group of women on whom I can count without question – Debbie, Anne, Ann, Julie, Linda, Angie, Alix, Kimberly, Trissy, Judy, and my sister-in-law, Lisa. As my daughters grow and mature, we are developing that wonderful kind of friendship that I know will keep us close forever. But above all of this, I am so lucky that my best friend truly is my mother.
From the time I was a little girl, my mother and I had a special kind of relationship. Maybe it’s because I was the only girl, and we banded together amid the high level of testosterone in our home. Maybe it’s because my mother, grandmother, aunt, and I were all just very close. Mom’s friends always said I was very mature and treated me like one of the gals, so maybe that part of it. Whatever the reason, I have always seen my mother as both my mother and my friend.
This was especially so after I got married. Moving two hours from home and living in an area where I had no relatives and no friends was very hard on me. It was the winter of 1993-1994 when the entire Eastern Shore was covered with ice and snow and all normal life came to a screeching halt. Ken was stuck in Annapolis and unable to get home for almost a week. I was in our new home with our new puppy, and I was miserable. It was my mother who talked me off of the ledge, so to speak. I don’t know how many long-distance fees we racked up that month, but Ken never complained. Even he could see that Mom is my lifeline – the person who keeps me holding on and inspires me. When Rebecca was born, my mother spent two weeks with me helping me get settled. I don’t know what I would have done without her. I firmly believe that is why Mom and Rebecca have such a strong bond today. Actually the same can be said for all of my girls – Mom was there when they came into the world and was there for their first two weeks of life, and she’s still there for them today.
Over the years, Mom and I have always tried to spend some special time together. We’ve taken trips with just the two of us to Williamsburg, Lancaster, Asheville, Niagara, and other places where we could just relax and have fun together. Now that Mom works as my assistant, we have even more reason to travel together. This past weekend, we drove from Maryland to Georgia for the Decatur Book Festival. It was a great weekend where we met other authors, sold my books, and gained more knowledge about promoting my craft. But the best parts of the trip were the times we spent just talking. There’s a lot of road between St. Michaels and Atlanta, but we never found ourselves with a lack of conversation. Whether we were talking politics, religion, family matters, or pop culture nonsense, we enjoyed every minute that we were together.
Someday I hope that I can have the same type of relationship with my own daughters. They already know that they can come to me with anything, and they usually do. Sometimes they preface what they have to say with something like “I need to talk to you as a Mom,” or “I need advice from a friend.” I like to think that they have watched my mother and me over the years and understand how someone can be both a mother and friend. I hope that I can be whatever they need me to be for them. I don’t think I will have a problem. I’ve had a great teacher.
Amy Schisler is the author of two mystery / suspense novels. Her first book, A Place to Call Home is in its second printing and may be purchased in stores, online, and through ibooks. Amy’s newest mystery, Picture Me, was released in August of 2015 and is available in stores and online. Her previously published children’s book, Crabbing With Granddad, may be purchased in stores and on Amazon.