On Mother’s Day, I’m thankful for my Mom (and a can of soup)

I’ve been reflecting on a lot lately - with Mother’s Day, the end of the school year - and the incredible concert I saw with my Mom last weekend. Seeing Steven Wilson live reminded me about what I’ve read about Pink Floyd’s concerts in their prime. It was an experience of the senses - the combination of music, video and lighting made it one of the greatest concerts I’ve ever been to.

I found Steven Wilson and his band Porcupine Tree during a particularly dark time in my life. I had experienced bullying when I was young - and I had never really found myself afterwards. I didn’t like getting up in the morning, I didn’t like who I was, I was insecure in all that I did - and I wasn’t happy. What Steven Wilson’s music did, beyond anything, was identify with the darkness I was grappling with and allowed me to dream of a day where I could be happy. Things could have been a lot worse, because I was lucky enough Mom and Dad who stuck with me during the rough times, the times where I was terrible to everyone - most notably to my parents and myself.

In college I was drifting through without a compass - I was at the end of my second year and I still hadn’t declared a major - and out of nowhere my Dad texted me that my mother had been in a head-on collision. She was okay, her car was totaled, and when my Dad texted me I - without meaning to, walked into a lecture hall and sat on the floor. Hearing that my Mom had come so close to tragedy shocked me in a way that nothing else ever had - and soon after, the Porcupine Tree song “Arriving Somewhere but not Here” shuffled onto my iPod. I’ve always interpreted the message of “Arriving...” to be that death could arrive at any time, and exploring whether we are ready when that moment comes. That day shocked me back into life, I decided that I was going to graduate in Education, that I was going to go to Nepal, that I was going to finish my novel, and that I wanted to be the person my parents deserved - and a person that I was proud to be. My Mom had a dented up can of soup that was in the back of her car during the accident - I took it with me that night, and kept it since as a reminder of how thin the line is between life and the other side.

5 years later, I love being a teacher, I’m engaged to marry someone who makes me happy when I’m around her, the Open World Cause has helped construct schools in Nepal and Kenya (and I’ve been fortunate enough to go to both), my novel is almost finished, and my relationship with my parents is better than its ever been (oh yeah, and I now have an amazing younger brother as well). Last weekend, Mom and I went to see Steven Wilson in Denver and together saw him perform “Arriving..” - and it was one of the most special moments in my life for a multitude of reasons.

I won’t pretend that every day is happy now, but I’m happier than I have ever been - and it’s hard to imagine myself here without the music of Steven Wilson - and of course - a Mom who refused to give up on me at my worst and who’s cool enough to go with me to see a 2 and a half rock concert in downtown Denver. Thanks for sticking with me, Mom. I don’t know where I’d be without you - I love you and happy early Mother’s Day.