To my mother-

My mom taught me what

patience looks like.

That fight or flight isn’t

always an option and

that standing your ground

even quietly

is still honoring yourself.

She always made sure I

valued everything I had

and appreciated still moments

and the company of myself.

She showed me that being

pretty and privileged

deserved my own sense of

modesty but with an assertiveness

and presence that demanded I

knew how to flatter and withdraw

from compliments and advances

simultaneously.

She taught me to be direct

and clear about what I want

otherwise people would only

choose for me.

“Don’t put your elbows on the table”

“Chin up”

“A daisy and I thought of you…”

“The world doesn’t owe you anything.”

When I went through my first

serious “life changing moment”

at 17,

she taught me

not to be a victim.

She showed me vulnerability

wasn’t weakness but in fact,

quite the opposite.

When I would call in tears

asking how to move forward

she’d say, “just do it baby!”

As an adult, I think the

most important lessons

she’s taught me

are about love.

My parents love has never

has never been perfect,

as none is, with a series

of almost crumbling moments.

But she showed me that love

is meant to be fought for,

that falling in love

is the easy part

and that sometimes “fighting”

means giving up,

so that you can take care

of yourself first.

I know how lonely we

all feel sometimes, but I learned

that when lonely,

I was only searching for myself.

I learned that home wasn’t always

a house with 4 walls,

but sometimes,

it’s a person.

My mom has always

been “home”

to my father,

my brother,

and I.

She has kept the balance

in the family

when there was chaos.

She has chose positivity

instead of negativity

while the rest of us

wavered.

And she has snapped

with kindness

and a fire in her eyes

like that of an alpha female

when her pack and cubs

were negligent

with their emotions

love

time

or peace.

I only know the strength and

ferocity and love of a mother

by watching my own.

And although I do not have

the motherly instinct

or desire for motherhood

I am a better damn woman

by learning how to harness

all that is feminine about me

with class but

also with a rage that says,

“don’t fuck with me because

I come from a long line of

women that didn’t shut up

or stand down

or be quiet.”

And I am not here to be ignored,

I am here to be understood.

I thank my mother for that.

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