From a young age, I’ve always been told I was a spitting image of my mother. I’d reply with a gentle smile not fully understanding the compliment that had just been told. But now at the age of 20, those are some of the few words I will never tire of hearing.
My mother is the best part of me.
She was the first body I clung to when I entered into this world. Her voice was the first voice that brought me comfort. She’s the first person I call when anything big happens and she’s the first person I yearn for when the going gets tough. She held me so fiercely for nine whole months and still continues to carry me every single day. My mother works three jobs as a volleyball coach, pre-k teacher, and realtor. She works relentlessly to provide for not only one child, but three. Having children in ages ranging from six to twenty-three, my mother is Wonder Woman and can do it all. She works hard even when she’s exhausted, she loves even when she’s angry, and she pushes us beyond our limits so that one day we’ll look back and have something to be proud of.
She’s my best friend and I’d be nothing without her.
This wasn’t always the case. Growing up I often gravitated towards others and never stopped to realize all that my mother did for me. I took her love for granted and turned everything upside down. I wasn’t the best daughter and I definitely wasn’t the most pleasant child to be around. Everything was a fight and I always found a reason to be upset with my mom. I thought I knew everything, which to be clear – I don’t.
My mother is everything I aim to be.
I want to be her. I want her smile, her motivation, her freckles, her courage. I want nothing more but to walk in her footsteps and maybe one day my own daughter will also know how important my mother is. She makes me so proud to be a woman, to be her only daughter. No one makes me feel as empowered as she does. How lucky this world is, to have such a wonderful and bright woman in its presence. She’s the reason I breathe, the reason I live, and the reason I am who I am. And for that, I am grateful.
She is tough and she is unbreakable.
Two months ago, my mother lost her best friend. She lost her person, her teammate, her partner in crime, and her sister. Her name was Erica, a name I will forever shout out to the world and a person we all loved so dearly. In that moment of loss, I saw the pain in my mother’s eyes and it broke me down. She’ll feel this heartbreak for the rest of her life, but she still continues to walk around with a smile. She doesn’t get up every morning and head to work for her own benefit, she does so for the benefit of her family. She is the most inspiring woman I know and her fight is beyond measure.
Growing up, my mother was my gym coach in Elementary and later moved up to be my 7th and 8th grade coach in Middle School. I was obligated to call her “coach” at school but there was nothing I was more proud of than being able to yell “mama” the moment I shut the car door to head home. It was her that I looked at any time I made a three-pointer. It was her that I looked at any time I unfortunately hit the volleyball into the net. And it was her I looked at every time I was near the last lap of the mile during a track meet. Her voice was loud and her presence was louder. It was at the last 100 meters that I’d see her waiting for me. I never finished a race alone, because my mother was right there running beside me.
From the very beginning to the very end, my mother will run every race with me and I wouldn’t want it any other way. Mothers are like no other. They deserve all the recognition and every ounce of love. Everyone has their own person, and in this case – my mother is mine.
Without a doubt,
My mother is and will always be the best part of me.