Twenty-five years ago, Thursday, Oct. 2, 1997 to be exact, this newspaper published my first column.

It began with “I’m somebody’s daughter, somebody’s sister, somebody’s mother.” Those descriptions haven’t changed.

Devoni Wardlow had the Thursday space, but she was moving on to a new chapter in her life. She encouraged me to apply for the job, and I submitted three columns. Managing editor Bob Haenel said I had the job.

The first few weeks were spent finding my groove. I wrote about my oldest son giving advice to his younger brother at his first dance – always act cool, keep asking girls to dance and have confidence.

For years, I wrote about the letters to Santa we published each December. I still remember the strangest advice a young girl gave to St. Nick – “Don’t drink the milk. I spit in it.”

The people I crossed paths with often made it into my column – Kit who worked in his family restaurant in West Virginia and mesmerized our sons with stories of the mountains. Rosie who has cut my hair for 30 years and would never use Aqua Net on my hair despite my writing she did.

Because I’m the biggest klutz around, I wrote about my missteps, embarrassing moments and cringe-worthy incidents. There was no shortage of those.

My youngest sons were in elementary school when I started, and my eldest was in junior high. Those boys provided me with more examples of failed motherhood than I could’ve possibly hoped for.

There were times when I didn’t think I had anything to say, and many of you would probably agree I should’ve taken a sabbatical that week. But I am proud to say I never missed occupying this space for the past quarter century.

I wouldn’t have that opportunity if it wasn’t for the owners and editors of Hartman Newspapers, and I thank you for sticking with me all these years. My husband and family faithfully read what I write and know when the computer keys are clacking, mom’s working.

I owe a huge debt of gratitude to former editor Bob Haenel. He pulled me out of the pit of despair more than once and believed in me when I didn’t. We all have heroes in our lives – Bob is mine.

I’m not well versed in politics, so I leave those column inches to those who are smarter than I am. My goal has always been to connect with other people, and humor is my favorite entry point.

But my favorite columns ae about the people in this community.

Because of them, I always have a feeling of sincere gratitude. The people who’ve overcome incredible obstacles keep me going. Whenever I want to give up, I think of how they didn’t stop.

Neither should I.

Their voices and stories play in my head all the time, and I’m thankful they allowed me to write about them. Trusting someone to tell your story correctly takes courage.

Mostly, I owe you, the reader, for taking time to read what I’ve written. Without you, there would be no reason to type out these words.

You’ve been with me as I did my best to take three boys from rambunctious toddlers to capable, grown men.

You’ve been with me as I navigated the waters of becoming a grandmother, teacher, and now retiree. The time has flown, but I’m so glad I had you as company along this fun and unpredictable ride called life.

I’m still somebody’s daughter, somebody’s sister and somebody’s mother. I’m also somebody’s wife, grandmother, aunt, cousin, friend, neighbor, and co-worker.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.