Mother

She came into this country from Haiti. An underprivileged young black woman with her eyes set on the typical American dream despite the French on her tongue and a husband who had opposing plans. An introduction to a story shared by millions of my people. But unlike millions she dared to seek better conditions for herself. She had a daughter (my sister...whoop whoop!), little income and no where to go when she met my father who would change all of that. This new relationship was in it's infancy stage and she had no more room for mistakes so with a heavy heart she sent her only child off to Haiti to be cared for by her parents while she got her life together. This time she would be sure that the leading man in her life had her best interest at heart. And thank heavens he did (go, Daddy!). He was a tenacious man who defied his sexist culture and encouraged my mother to become an independent woman. She loved that about him so much that she overcame her fears about a second marriage and bore him a child (meeeeee) shortly after their nuptials. Life was grand. Grand enough for her to make the arrangements to bring not only her first child but also my father's child from Haiti. Finally we stood on a united front as a family. But the sun only shines for so long in our world. My father fell ill and all she could do was care for him as best she knew how as we watched him slip away from us. I say "we" loosely as I am the only child who's mind carries no such existence of these moments. As a mother she could only mourn so much. Three young children stood before her in need of care and monetary support she knew not where to find. My step-sister was the oldest at about 16 years of age and her rebellious ways took it's toll on our unit. She was a very troubled soul who let anger about the unfortunate route her life took fester into hatred for our dad. And now that he wasn't there and her birth mother was miles away; she turned that resentment against my mother (yes, my Mother wasn't going through enough apparently). It wasn't long before she moved out to move in with my paternal family (she wasn't old enough to be on her own). We lost touch forever. We tried to rekindle our relationship as adults however her hatred for my parents made it extremely difficult for us to even carry on a conversation let alone a bond between sisters. Well, anyway my mom sent my sister & I to live with my Aunt so that she could again try to establish a better life for her children. And she did. To this day, I have no idea how my mother kept a roof over our heads. We came back home and never wanted for food in our stomach  (well most days) or clothing on our back. She took in other people's children when we were barely making it ourselves. She took in other people period. The same Aunt that took us in; she turned around and took her family in when they needed the help. Living in a home with so many women made everyday an adventure. To this day I feel a sense of nostalgia whenever I visit a multi-generational home. I think back in amazement when I think of how much my mother was there for me given her circumstances. And her faith in God was nothing short of amazing. Bitterness would eat at me whenever our unfortunate circumstances would overwhelm me. However, my mother would remind me of all of the things I did have. Family prayer at night, church every Sunday and random prayer vigils when the going got real rough. Church made me sick....lol. When I refused to go to college, she marched my behind up to the financial aid office and stayed there until I made arrangements to receive instruction that fall. She was fierce in her beliefs and dreams for her children.

And here we are. My sister and I hold college degrees and respectable employment. We are mothers in our own right to our own fantastic children. We both own a car (or 2) and hold her high on a pedestal. Classy women with men in our lives that adore us (they adore her too....lol). And when I thought she might be getting tired of all this mothering she turns around and becomes an exceptional grandmother too. Yes, she did that. Now my well of gratitude is filling up as the table of life turns. When one becomes even more of an adult and can truly value the sacrifices that their parents have made in their honor. Wow. My mom is awesome. I didn't have a father. I was the recipient of a New York City public school system that fails the youth daily. My neighborhood left much to be desired. I had a million reasons to be less than I am now. My mother was such a powerful is driving force at times I call her randomly just to ask her how she did it. To which she laughs of course.  

Despite our disagreements my need for her are as intense as my first moments in the womb. She is still a lifeline. 
And I'm in my late 20s. I love that woman. She'll always be my baby. 



Started from the bottom!