Mi Mama

My mom is 72. I know this because I'm 42 and she is always my +30. I noticed this weekend that her skin doesn't heal anymore like it should. I asked her about it and she says it's collagen. She could pay $10,000 per arm and have it "fixed." But time is time. And collagen cannot unwind time.

I've been asked a lot in my lifetime who I admire - who I aspire to be. My mind goes blank - no one has that status for me - no one is that amazing. Humans are humans. Even the best humans are just humans. And honestly, they all kinda suck, no matter who they are. No one is on a pedestal.

Except my mom. My mom is my hero. 

She sees herself as a no one, funny enough. A woman who stayed home with her kids and never finished college. A woman who never had the courage to step out or up, to tell her husband she's had enough of his shit. She sees a mouse. 

I see a warrior. 

I see a woman who fought all odds to survive. Every pen stroke on her story is one of survival. People ask me how I'm so strong - a single mom - a business owner.  I am not a victim of my circumstances, because my mama told me NO. My mama told me there's no victimization in our lineage. We fight. We stand up. 

Don't you *dare* feel sorry for me.

You might not know this, but my mama caught on fire when she was six, and they said she would never survive it. They gave her up for dead. 

And then she rared up and kicked death's ass.

This woman with age spots now used to birth pigs at 3 am, kick cows off the porch, knock the wind out of her 14 year old son, sew my clothes, and braid my hair. As a teenager she made my life miserable - I laugh now that she made her full time job knowing where I was at all times. She was a champion for my virginity. I was not thrilled about that at the time.

Now my friend's ADHD son makes her have to catch her breath just watching him.

And that will happen to me, too. I hate it. People continuously tell you when you have a child that it passes so quickly and to enjoy every minute of it. I don't think they know that I suck the very marrow of every single snapshot in my time. Every day. Every laugh. Every kiss.

I hate time.

I hate time. I hate time. And it's ever-marching.

I think the very best part of heaven shall be the lack of it.