So, here is a toast to the friend’s mom. The one who fed you, who never told your parents about the dent in the bumper, and who, years later, reminds you that you’re going to be okay.
There is something validating about being liked by the matriarch of the group. She has seen you cry over a breakup, celebrate a promotion, and eat an entire tray of nachos. She knows you. And when she tells you she’s proud of you, it feels like a bonus parent stamp of approval. friends mom
Mark finally showed up an hour late. We hugged, I grabbed a leftover brownie, and I left. So, here is a toast to the friend’s mom
On the drive home, I realized that the "village" we hear so much about isn't just for raising kids. It’s for living life. Diane isn't my mom. But she is part of my foundation. She has seen you cry over a breakup,