Good morning, Cicely.

It’s quiet this morning. The kind of quiet where the trees seem to lean in just a little, where the coffee tastes more like a ritual than a drink. The kind of quiet that makes you think about where you came from—and who helped you get here.

I want to talk about my mom.

She was with my dad for forty-nine years. That’s longer than most buildings stand. That’s longer than some rivers hold their course. That’s love… tested and weathered and still somehow tender.

Now, my dad—he was a doctor. He stitched bones and mended wounds and carried the weight of other people’s pain home with him more nights than not. But my mom—she carried him. Carried the rest of us too. Not in some dramatic, spotlighted way. No. She did it the way great writers do things. Subtly. Line by line. Always building. Always listening.

See, she’s a writer. Not just of books or essays—but of people. Of moments. She taught me that a well-placed silence can be as powerful as a scream. That stories don’t need to be loud to last forever.

And she was—still is—the best mom a kid could ask for. She didn’t just raise me. She saw me. Even when I was trying hard not to be seen. She let me stumble, let me figure it out, and she always had the porch light on when I came back around.

And now that Dad’s gone… I find myself looking at her with new eyes.

She gave so much of herself for so long, and now I just want the rest of her life to be hers. I want her to write again—not for legacy, not for others, but for joy. I want her to feel how much she still matters, how much there is still waiting for her. Because she’s still got stories. Still got fire. Still got time.

Mom, if you’re listening… you don’t owe anyone a single thing anymore.

What I wish for you now is happiness. Pure, selfish, sunlight-on-your-face happiness. I want you to travel, to write what scares you, to laugh until you cry in places Dad never took you.

You carried us all for so long. Now let the wind carry you. Let the future be gentle and wide and yours.

This is Chris in the Morning, KBHR 570 AM, signing off for now. Sending love to the woman who gave me everything—and who I now wish everything for.