Found.

"There was a time when I was alone

Nowhere to go and no place to call home

My only friend was the man in the moon

And even sometimes he would go away, too."

For any of the non-male readers out there you might find today's "Snap. Shot." to be either enlightening or boring. I guess it all depends on what you want to know and/or how well I write it. 

The term "Momma's Boy" is very real; sorry guys but I think the person writing this was most definitely in that column. When growing up, or at least for me, my Mom was the rock I turned to during the times when I was in need of a shoulder, ear or hug to get me through what I thought was an earth-shattering moment. 

When I was very young, it likely had to do when friends (or my brother) hurt my feelings, the sensitivity would come through. Or in one instance when I was playing in the woods near our house when a large branch fell on my head. It must have been more than a twig since the side of my head was scarlet after it fell to the ground and stitches followed.. News flash, I recovered quickly with a trip to the doctor but the scar does prove I'm telling the truth. 

Who did I run to? My Mom!

Move forward to my teen years and the pain was much more internal and branches fell by the wayside; I had to deal with what I  thought were unrecoverable broken hearts. Again, although painful and deep, I recovered. Once again I ran to the person who brought me into this world. 

The most painful time, and this is pretty darn personal, was when the "love of my life" (at least so I thought at the time) decided she was no longer “going to be the love in my life.” I remember meeting up with my Mom, who was doing laundry downstairs, and just breaking down. The pain was very real and left a wound I never thought I would heal. It did. But what, and how, my Mom dealt with this trauma allowed me to move forward. What did she do? She gave me a hug and said “You’ll make it through.”

My Mom passed away on November 18, 2009. She was someone who no matter how much of a pain in the butt I was, believed in me—-and I believed in her.

Mom, I miss you every day (you too Dad) and want to thank you again for making me who I am today. 

The photo above was taken at our local zoo. No that’s not my Mom, but with the look on my face, and the way I was digging in, it could be me with some hairy ape.

Thanks for stopping by.