At the age of of 14 thru 16 years old, I didn’t speak to this woman, pictured here. In fact, I wanted nothing to do with her for the rest of my life. I even told her, multiple times, she was dead to me. I ran away from her house and never looked back, yet, she never gave up on me. Throughout high school she would clip out newspaper clipping and collect them with sports highlights of me. She clipped out images from different things to store in a box. She watched me as closely as she could given that I gave her no chance to get close. She never stopped praying. She never stopped caring. She never stopped, period.
After realizing the greener grass at my fathers house was solely based on the amount of manure that surrounded it, at 17 we reconnected. Like all boys and their mothers we’ve had our valleys but I firmly believe that our leaks haven’t even began yet. However, when I watch her sitting in front of my brothers Christmas tree handing out presents to her grandkids, it makes my heart swell.
My brother and I was not so pleasant growing up. We brought Hell to her front door on any and every occasion we could but she was as determined as a bull to not waiver.
That’s my mommy. She goes by a super hero name too, Grammy.
If you cross her today, my brother and I will bring that Hell she’s been through right to your doorstep without second thought.