Maman

I remember it like it was yesterday.
It was snowy.
My mom had driven out to watch my race.
It was counties.
It was big.
I had a lot on the line.
I was nervous.
I wanted top 10.

I fell.

I remember coming through the finish corral and looking at my skis in shame as I told my mom "I fell... I blew it."
My fall wasn't that spectacular. But my mom's reply was.
"So?"

I was so disappointed in myself. I thought I had disappointed her to.
But she was still so proud of me. 
"It doesn't matter. You still kicked butt in your first run."

Suddenly I believed her. I really, really did. I realized that no result would ever make my mom less proud of me. No number would quantify her love for me. She loved me anyway and she couldn't have been more proud.

It's just a moment, one that might have lasted 5 minutes at most. But the impact shook my world.

That's just one story. One of the millions I could tell about my mom. She was the subject of EVERY SINGLE one of my hero essays as a kid. I mean why wouldn't she be?
She was a single mom going to college as a student athlete (and CRUSHING IT by the way).
She ran around after her little overly-involved handful of a child.
She never skipped a parent teacher conference (much to my dismay).
She coached me in EVERY single sport that I ever did in some way.
She's inspired more people than I can count.
She's pushed me to finish even when I wanted to quit (a million times).
She's nurtured my faith.
She's proofread every important thing I have ever written (and will tell me about my mistakes in here I'm sure :P)
She's someone I'll gladly follow, because I know Who's leading her.

So when I wanted to find a picture of my mom for her birthday I looked and looked. There's a million of her smiling and laughing. There's embarrassing ones from our younger days. There's 1,000 that have to do with me playing some sport and her cheering for me.

But I love this one, because it's how I've always seen her:
the trailblazer guiding me to a brighter future.
My role model. 
My hero. 
My mom.