My Mother; a role model. a nightmare

A bond of flesh. A bond of blood. A bond created deep within the exterior of our frangible bodies; our soul. The foundation of all mother-daughter relationships. The one reason strong enough to push you to deal with that intolerant woman who has always cared for you with a gentle firm and loving hand. My mother, my aim and my nightmare has fused itself together through the twisted desire and search of myself.

Born in the womb of a woman I long to be; intelligent, wise, talented and firm, I never knew that one day, as I step into my own space in time I would loathe the mere thought of being her; intolerant, know-it-all and a bigot. Now don’t judge me just yet. You have yet to understand the bewildering experience of my life, you have yet to know and understand me. I use to question myself about my own mother. Do I love her for who she is? Or is it merely because she is after all my mother? The one woman who chooses to risk her life for the third time to bring my very existence into the world I now aspire to be a part of. The answer is not as simple as the ink that seeps into a piece of parchment or the logical equation of 1+1 = 2. It is that unspoken love that surrounds us both, like the air that we breathe; invisible yet a necessity of life. Akin with the language that we no longer fluently speak a language of truth and love that has diminished in the grounds of society; tainted by the corrupt and ostentatious lifestyle that many celebrities and media have exploited to the mind of the young and innocent. One the thousands of lessons she has always reminded me much too often, is that only I can define myself in this raving world, that only I would have to live with myself and that no one else but me could determine my own fate in this world and whatever comes after. She is my constant reminder to never lose myself to what others might stray to; she is the anchor that pulls me back from being adrift in this vast harsh world. Until one day, I would be strong enough to venture off by myself and discover the world she has once questioned. No matter how I retaliate, shrug and pull her iron chained soul will never let me go, no matter how I distaste such control. She knows the actions I will take and receives them open-heartedly; when the wind changes and the storm come she is my anchor, my rock and my safety net.

I remember the nights I spent as a little girl, not more than four to six years of age. I cuddled up next to my brown teddy, feeling the soft fabric against my arms and face, I’d listen to the sounds of my sister working on her work, my brother attempting to get out of his bed time once again, the sounds of the T.V downstairs that my father would just put on to soon fall asleep on the sofa and the clicking of my mother’s slippers coming closer and closer while I anticipate her entrance through my bedroom door. She would look at my sister and warn her of the time and moved across the room towards the door that connected my room with my brothers. She debated simply yet firmly with a hint of loving care to persuade my mischievous brother to finally go to bed for school early the next morning. She would then turn off the lights while I pretended to sleep as I closed my eyes comfortably in my twin bed with a pillow below my head, a teddy in my arms, my body neatly under the soft cushion of the comforter. My mother would simple place a strand of hair from my face and kiss me goodnight, knowingly that a few hours later she would have to come back to place the blanket that has fallen onto the floor once again. I then drifted to sleep finding comfort with the small fid ling and the sounds of the T.V knowing that my family is never far from me.

It didn’t take long for me to remember these small things of the past. With or without the two new members of the family that soon came into my life. That has come to destroy my life and break everything I own. No, no; to brighten and excite my life just a little more. They were my little brats, my little devils, my little so-called sisters. They brought me tears, envy, sadness along with laughter, smiles and the innocent perspectives I have once lost during the years that has past. More importantly, they brought me freedom, lessons that words can never convey and a chance to change. Something I have never thought of, they have taught me more than I ever thought I could teach them. They taught me respect, patience, compassion and a love that has no raison d'être. Something my mother has tried so hard to teach but failed. A lesson she had secretly taught me through the joys, tribulation and pain that only a family can bring.