I watch The Real Housewives of ______ series. I remember Nick one time asking me why I watch them, over the ladies bickering and fighting and name calling and gossiping. And I explained that I don’t have girl drama in my real life, so these reality series is how I get my dose of drama that all women yearn for – I know, women.

Anyhoo, the other day, two ladies of Beverly Hills were preparing for their daughters to leave for college. And it took me back to those weekend visits my mom would make to Edmonton to see me when I was in uni. And those are times I haven’t thought of for ages.

She would normally arrive late Friday afternoon. We’d go for supper. Lots of time to the Olive Garden (that was before that I knew what real Italian food is). And she would always show up with homemade cooking and baking. Individual lasagnas and chicken pot pies (with no peas) in those little aluminium containers with the white cardboard lids. And banana bread or zucchini bread. Oh, and chocolate chip cookies. And we’d get groceries and go to Wal-Mart and get whatever else I needed to do that I normally couldn’t do without a car.

I’m crying as I write this now. I remember that first week away from her, living on my own. I know I called her multiple times a day. Like at least 10. From cooking to cleaning to banking questions. Or just because I felt so alone. And those calls slowly had more time between them, as I became more independent and “needed” her less.

This is such a hard time of year for me. Spring always brings change and sadness and loss – and this year is no different.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if I could still call my mom 10 times a day?

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