It would be impossible to tell you my first memory of my mom. Mothers aren’t someone you remember meeting. They were just . . . always there. My mom was athletic and fun. I remember she used to go running, and I’d beg to go with her as a kid. Back then we lived on a small court and she often ran on busy roads. “When you’re older,” she said. And when I was older, I did.

Mom always made amazing home-cooked meals for our family. She made it look easy, and our house was always spotless, too. “Does anyone even live here?” my friends used to ask when they’d visit. “Yes,” I’d reply. “Mom makes us clean up after ourselves.” It was true.

Mom did her best to try to teach me how to cook; sadly, I was never much interested. I wasn’t interested in sewing, either. “Too much work and too tedious!” I’d say. “I’ll marry someone who can cook and take my sewing to a tailor.” Thanks to her persistence, however, I actually can cook today. I’ll probably never sew a Halloween costume, though.

Mom took us to swim lessons, music lessons, varsity practices, school performances. She took care of us and kissed our “owies” when we got hurt. She worried over us and saved her salary to help my brother and I get through college without loans.

Speaking of college, she drove me across the country — was it twice, Mom? — to go to school in Tennessee. Once there, she bought me a mini fridge and a microwave and new bedding so I’d be comfortable in my new “home away from home.” She always wanted the best for me.

Mom liked to play. I remember people-watching with her at the airport or mall, or any time we had downtime in a public place. “Everyone looks like a different animal,” Mom told my brother and me. “And people look like their pets.” And so we’d sit and determine what animals different people looked like, and especially those who were toting their pets.

Mom was artistic. She had impeccable taste and the eye of an interior decorator. She knew how to make everything in a space “just right,” and to this day walking into her house is like walking into a model home. She could paint and draw, and she created magnificent booths at our school’s Fall Festival every year. She was also known for her amazing gift-wrapping skills. At Christmas we always joke that we don’t want to open our gifts — they’re too pretty!

In short, Mom was everything a mother should be, and much, much more, and her greatest gift to my brother and I was (and is) the time she’s given us throughout our lives. These days Mom and her husband Ron live in California, my “forever home,” and thus I didn’t get to have brunch with them this morning. I did, however, get to FaceTime them, and I was reminded that there’s truly no place like home — and by “home” I mean family!

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom! I love you!

P.S. Yes, in case you were wondering, my mom and I are a lot alike!