She is Strength

When she comes home at night I can hear her pull in the driveway and can imagine her sighing as she gathers her things, her purse, the mail, a water bottle, and some garbage that was tossed carelessly on the floor by her children. She shakes her head as she bends to grab the crumpled tissues and candy wrappers that litter the floor of her van, appreciating the fact that although her children begged her not to get her ‘soccer mom vehicle’, she made the right purchase and is thankful that she has something to drive. I hear her as she opens her car door, struggling to get out with her hands full, and imagine her kicking it closed behind her. She arrives at the front door and fumbles with her keys, struggling to get inside. Upon entering, I can hear her pour herself a glass of water and imagine how she closes her eyes as the cool liquid sinks to her stomach. Her shoulders slump in exhaustion, her back is tight with stress, her eyes look out the window into the yard she tries to upkeep, yet fails to keep perfect due to lack of time. I imagine her turning, her hair brushing her shoulders, as she shuts off the light above the sink. As darkness embraces her, she leaves the kitchen and walks up the stairs, smiling at the fact that her children are sleeping. She approaches the first door and quietly opens it, she walks to her son, who is sprawled out in a dead sleep. The thought of him not waking up, even if a bomb was to explode next to him, enlightens her and she grins with no one there to see her pretty smile. She then walks to the second closed door, and opens it slowly and quietly, to find her daughter fast asleep with her cell phone clasped in her hand. Prying it out of her hand and placing it on her night stand, she looks at her daughter with love. She approaches the third and last door. She once again enters silently and looks upon her eldest child. She tiptoes across the room so as not to wake the light sleeper and places a kiss gently on my cheek. She leaves the room and closes the last door behind her. She whispers a silent goodnight in the hallway before heading up to her own room. Although the time is after midnight, she still has many things to do before granting herself the privilege of sleep. She checks her email, opens the mail, pays some bills, and does tasks that normal women do during the day with their free time. She goes to the bathroom to brush her teeth and stares at the reflection looking back at her. She sighs at the wrinkles that line her face, from years of stress and worry. Sadness has permanently creased the space around her eyes, though around her mouth are creases from laughter and happiness. After brushing her teeth, she tiredly stumbles to bed and envelopes herself in her blankets. Sadly, though, the spot is empty next to her, the pillow bare with no one to kiss goodnight. She holds the teddy bear that she sleeps with close to her heart, willing it to give her comfort and fight the loneliness away. And then, clutching the stuffed animal that she shares her bed, she whispers her prayers and falls into a deep sleep. She awakes bright and early, before any of her children begin to stir, and starts her tasks for the day. She makes sure that all her children are fed and ready, after greeting them each with a kiss and cheery hello. They admire her strength, and her chipper attitude. After waving to her daughter who heads off to work, she drives her other two children where they need to go. Then she runs some errands, and heads back to the house to do chores and yard work necessary to keep her household running. She works hard, and her back aches as she does manual labor that a husband usually takes care of. She gasps as the hot sun pounds against the back of her neck and she wipes away the sweat that creeps down her forehead. She glances at her watch and is discouraged to see that it is already early afternoon, and work awaits her. She quickly cleans herself up and drives herself to work, not looking forward to having to stand for eight hours running hundreds of samples in the hospital laboratory. However, she will do anything necessary to provide for her children. After work she wearily drives home, willing herself to stay awake as she drives the windy streets. When she comes home at night I can hear her pull in the driveway and can imagine her sighing as she gathers her things, her purse, the mail, a water bottle, and some garbage that was tossed carelessly on the floor by her children…

This woman is loving. She provides and cares. She is strong. She is happy. She is my mother.

She is Success

When she wakes up in the morning she reaches out and pets her dog. A companion so faithful, so loving, so trusting. Not an early riser, she wills her eyes to open and tries to rub the sleepiness from them with hands that have worked so hard. She rolls out of bed and showers, waking herself as droplets of water stream down her naked body, still slim and taught despite her age. After showering she gets herself ready, always looking fabulous and fashionable so that everyone that sees her is jealous of her beauty. She rushes to finish getting ready, and grabs the pet that accompanies her wherever she goes. She gets into her flashy corvette and begins her drive to work. She ignores the looks that she receives from men driving past, and disregards the landscapers that hoot at her from the sidewalk. After several minutes she arrives at work, a place that she built, a place that she owns, a place that is hers. She approaches the entrance with pride, and enters the door with a smile. “Hello All,” she bellows upon entry as she greets her employees and friends with kisses. There is pride in her voice as she asks about the day’s schedule and is pleased that it will be a profitable day. The people around her respect her, are amazed at her success, and stunned by the way that she handles herself and her business. I look at her admiringly, hoping that one day I will be as successful as she, and yet still be so happy. She makes her way up to her office, stopping to greet every person in her path with a vibrant smile and excited hello. She sits at her desk and deals with the company’s problems. Makes sure that her employees are relaxed and calm, her clients are happy, and her business is running smoothly. Her constant presence in the salon ensures its success and she is involved in any issue that arises. She stays there all day, works long hours that no one would voluntarily want. She is a friend, a companion, yet the owner. Her power is obvious to all at the salon, and they respect her decisions and successes. She is there until the night is dark and doesn’t leave until the day is nearly done. She picks up her dog before leaving and departs with a bellowing “Goodnight all.” They wave and say goodbye as she exits, and she walks alone to her car. She drives herself home and gets ready for bed. There is no one there to greet her when she gets home, no one waiting to give her a kiss hello. There is no one to talk to but her beloved dog, her pet, her companion. She watches TV before sleeping, and is snuggled in her bed alone. She falls asleep and has many dreams. When she wakes up in the morning she reaches out and pets her dog. A companion so faithful, so loving, so trusting…

This woman is successful. She is confident. She is respected. She is my aunt.

Not One the Same

What impresses me is that there are billions of people in the world, each one individually different. From miniscule freckles, to DNA, to personality, to looks; not one exactly like another. This awes me for the reason that no matter how many people I meet in my lifetime, never will I be walking down the isle of a food store and come face to face with myself. Never will I partake in a conversation with someone who has the same exact personality as myself. And never will I find someone who possesses the same name, enjoys the same activities, and shares an identical reflection to the one that looks back at me in a mirror. Because in our world, and in my opinion, what makes this earth so entertaining, is that each and every living, breathing soul is different than another.