My mom raised four boys. She had help fucking up the first two. My dad was only around for four years, from the time I was eight to the time I was twelve. So she managed to keep one of us from getting fucked up (me). So I guess one out of four ain't bad. I wanted to write a poem for her but my creative juices ain't flowing right now. This little bio will have to do.
Mom was born 78 years ago in Texas. She grew up one of six children. My grandpa and grandma picked cotton, so the more kids they had, the more cotton the family could pick, the more money they could make, the more grandpa could drink. She left home at 16 with a seventh grade education, she came back a month later. She eventually married and had my brothers, by then she was a southern socialite. She owned both of the grocery stores in town. She lost it all in the divorce.
She was raising my brother and me by herself. My real dad showed up when I was eight and split again when I was twelve (she shot him in the head, he figured the gettin' was good). Now she was raising two teenage boys by herself. She moved us to a different part of Texas, so we could have a fresh start in life. Most of those four years she was with my dad are a blur. I guess people do really try to forget the bad times. Don't get me wrong, I could write a book about the hell he put us through, but sometimes things come back that are even worse than the things I remember. Through it all my mom managed to show us as much love and caring as she could muster. Which was no easy task since she grew up in a loveless family. To grandpa and grandma she was just another cotton picker.
No matter what the situation was, my mom made sure we had the basics plus a little more. She worked two full time jobs and raised us. Sure there were times when I cooked my own meals and did my own laundry (everyday), but she made sure I knew right from wrong and that I knew what respect was. She made sure I went to school and got my education, at least until my senior year when I was given the choice of being kicked out or quitting. I was a little rebellious. Through all the hell I put her through she stuck by me no matter what.
Mom taught me independence, she made sure that I had the confidence to make it in this world. She taught me to do the right thing. She taught me to stand up for what you believe in, no matter how unpopular your beliefs. She taught me to stick to your guns and your story. She always said "Don't admit nothing, cause I ain't bailing your ass out of jail." She always patched my wounds, no questions asked, even when she should have been asking if anybody was killed. She taught me not to drink warm water and baking soda the very first time you get drunk. She taught me the very first time you get drunk, that it's possible for you mom to crack you in the face with a rodeo belt buckle hard enough to leave an imprint, but you still won't feel it until the next day. She taught me how to two-step. She taught me how to hunt and fish. She taught me how to skin a rabbit and clean a fish. She taught me a lot of things that should have been taught by my father. She gave me, my chauvinistic ways. This list could go on and on. My mom is an amazing woman.
The most important thing my mom taught me is, "a mothers love is unconditional".
Even though she'll never read this. I just want to say "Mom I love you. Happy Mothers Day."