Schooled by my Mother

Tyrel Bramwell and his mother. Photo taken by his wife, the mother of his children.

It seems that there’s a false notion floating around among the men of our day, that once a fella hits adolescence, and especially by the time he has traversed fully into manhood, he no longer needs his mother. That’s the biggest load of malarkey – that’s an appropriate word given that my mom might read this – out there.

Mom’s rock! You know it’s true. There’s no reason to question it. I’m not just saying this because of a nationally observed Mother’s Day. That’s behind us. My conscience is not bound by societal pressure to behave according to an established norm. No. I really mean it. Mom’s are awesome!

Case in point. I’ve never been a tea drinker. Coffee has always held a special place in my heart and tea just tasted like a watered down version of the good stuff. I don’t like my beer watered down, why would I want my coffee watered down? That was my disposition toward the drink until last November (2012). Mi madre (and my mother-in-law) flew out to be with my family during a tense time (because moms are rad!) and while she was here she drank her tea, just as she always does. A conversation busted out about our beverage preferences and I decided to give tea drinking (I’m not a teetotaler, mind you!) a shot.

The long and short of it is this: I have had a cup of tea just about every day since November (usually immediately following lunch), and every time I do, I think, even if only for a millisecond, about my mother and how great it is to have a good relationship with her, and how awesome it is that she is still schooling me on the good stuff of life.

© 2013 Tyrel Bramwell


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s