Honor our mothers, who know better than us, but let us believe in ourselves. Thanks Mom!
The only thing I knew that summer day was that I was right and Mom was wrong. We sat stalled in my Pram sailboat, and felt the waves and chop slap against the flat front of the boat and push us backwards. And when the wind picked up, we watched in helpless frustration as the mothers in charge of the other boats sailed past us, as if they knew exactly what they were doing and we did not. It was the day of the Mother’s Day Race and Mom and I had been winning. Our lead had been huge, almost an entire leg of the race course. But something had happened.
It was one of those awkward times when, with no graceful transition, the child, with puffed up confidence, seems to know more than the parent. I was eleven and I was sure I knew everything about how to win…
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