To my mommy who created me.
To the woman who put up with my rebellious teenage tantrums
To laughing so hard, our laughs, knowing each others tones.
To bumping music in the car causing mini-car-quakes.
To talking about future boyfriends, and to stitching back a broken heart.
To running away to Mexico without letting me know, and always finding your way back.
To arguing like siblings
To the lipstick stains on makeup wipes after every party.
To watching Cantinflas every Saturday.
To falling asleep in your motherly arms, and waking up to a ghostly bed.