I am about to be starting my third month with The Blade, and living in Perrysburg. While everything has been wonderful one main thing has been missing: My mother.
Coming to this area was like a homecoming of sorts since my mom grew up a farm in Findlay and went to Cory Rawson High School. Living here has been great, but it feels strange living in Ohio while my mother is in Michigan.
Every Mother's Day growing up, my brothers and I used to pile into whatever vehicle she had at the time and take U.S. 23 South, past Perrysburg, to Findlay to visit my grandma. This weekend I will reverse my trip, heading north on 23, and I'm sorry to disappoint all you other sons and daughters out there - but I'll be visiting the best mother of all time.
There is really little debate over this fact.
My mom, Cecile Priestley, missed only one baseball game in my entire high school career, and I constantly remind her about my base hit and stolen base that day. My mother used to get up at the crack of dawn and drive me to high school at 5 a.m. for driver's ed and football workouts.
She would always get me some of my favorite cherry pie, but then come down on me about making curfew in high school. I frequently received the "if [insert friend's name] jumped off a cliff would you, too" speech, and encouragement after losing a little league championship game in eighth grade.
More than anything my mother was always there for me, whether it was keeping me company in the cold bleachers, or after I was separated from my friends going into middle school and felt alone. She has always loved me no matter what - even if I got in trouble, or embarrassed her with my goofy nature.
Sunday she will celebrate Mother's Day, and Monday is her birthday.
I can give her flowers, tell her I love her, and even mistakenly try to bake something [better yet have my fiancee bake her something]. But nothing will ever express how much I love my mother, and how grateful I am for her.
Thanks mom, I love you.