Five-foot three, with light brown eyes and jet-black hair, my mom is my favorite hello and most difficult goodbye. For as long as I can remember, she has been my idol, gracefully modeling a dichotomy difficult to strike. While prosecuting in the courtroom, she is a force to be reckoned with—unfaltering in her pursuit of justice for others. As a mother, friend, and woman, however, she unveils a softer side: Her actions exude sensitivity, optimism, and kindness unlike any other I have ever known.

As an only child, I never received the gift of a sibling with whom I could share laughs, secrets, or knowing glances from across a room. The older I’ve gotten, the more I have realized I never needed a sibling, anyway.

Back home, my mom and I would wake, nosh on a quick breakfast together, and depart for Jersey City—she off to work and I to school. Regardless of frigid weather, gridlock traffic, or my anxious stomach ache prior to a day of exams, we always had fun. She would crack jokes and we would laugh; I would queue music and we’d sing along. With her infectious smile and confident attitude, my mom managed to turn every gloomy morning of mine into a better day.

Now that I am at Rochester, we are separated by nearly 400 miles of sloping highway. I no longer have the luxury of peeking out a classroom window and seeing her office building standing tall a mile away. Moving away from home was a major shift—and not just because of my new suburban digs, minimized food options, and much harsher winters.

When I am missing my mom especially, I recall the words she imparted upon me when I would cry as a young girl: A line from her favorite poem, by author e. e. cummings.

“I carry your heart with me, I carry it in my heart,” she’d smile, wiping away my tears.

As I reflect upon that sentence, I can see that there is a piece of my mom with me wherever I go. Whether my toothy smile, the spitting image of hers; how I can’t help but dance when Simon & Garfunkel plays; or my affinity for crossword puzzles. I like to think that every day, I grow to be a little bit more and more like her. I guess those 400 miles between the two of us don’t feel so distant, after all. 



An ode to my relationship with my mother

URochester’s 2026-27 Medical Amnesty Policy now includes student organizations seeking medical help on behalf of their members. The policy says that students, and now student organizations, who reach out for help with substance-related medical emergencies will not suffer consequences for the possession or consumption of alcohol and other drugs in violation of University policy. Read More

An ode to my relationship with my mother

Performed at Lynne Lovejoy Parlor in the Memorial Art Gallery, “Dealbreaker” by Lauren Kee is a one woman show about her experience dealing with the social stigma of contracting genital herpes after a one-night stand. Read More

An ode to my relationship with my mother

For birds, the cycle of migration occurs annually and is linked with the changing of the seasons as well as the abundance of food.  Read More