I am SO my mother's daughter

It's pathetic, really how like her I am. Mom cried at everything...commercials, kids singing in church, Christmas carols, the Crusade for Children, firemen, soldiers, ends, beginnings...We would always know when Mom was going to get teary-eyed over something. When we'd steal a glance at her, she'd hiss at us, "Don't stare at me!" and we'd look away. But out of the corner of our eyes, we could see her dabbing at her tears with a tissue because, if she caught them before they rolled down her cheeks, it wasn't technically "crying" in her book.

I'm pretty much the same way, and lately whenever I've seen all of the power workers in town, I get choked up. Can't explain it at all. I see these guys (mostly) up from Carolina and Tennessee and Georgia out working on our power in this weather for hours on end, and it gets to me. I know they are getting overtime, etc. but there is something about the way they put themselves on the line, literally, to help us out that just moves me.

Every time I see some utility workers, I roll down my window and holler a big, "Thank you!" to them. They all wave and smile and hopefully know some of us appreciate all of their hard work.

Tonight, I was taking Kyle to basketball practice when I saw this long line of utility trucks at an intersection. The yellow lights at the top of their trucks were blinking on and off while they waited for the stoplight to turn green. As I drove past them, I flashed my brights off and on, hoping that they would see my little shout out. Some of them flashed back at me, and I smiled to myself, a lump in my throat.

I mumbled to Kyle, "I am so my mother's daughter!" and he asked what I meant. I couldn't answer. My throat had closed, and I needed to catch the tears before they rolled down my cheeks.