Sitting on my kitchen floor watching my mother hover over the stove for our thanksgiving feast, the only thing I can be is thankful. My mother is the most extraordinary person I know. Most people say that about their mothers, but if this blog could have a tone of voice it would be all genuine seriousness. My mother, since the day I was born, has gone through fire and rain to provide everything for my brother and I. She has told me multiple times that her mission in life for the past 17 years has been to give me and Trenton the world. She is the ultimate fighter. She fights for Trenton and I. Prayer, financially, mentally, and just all around support. I couldn't ask for a better mother. Whenever either of us are having a bad day, or we have a problem she ALWAYS talks it out with us. If I had a dream that I can't figure out what it means, she is my prophetic counselor. If I have a dance costume and some feathers on the sleeve randomly decide to leave, she is my "I'm going to rip some feathers off of the next thing I see, so you can have some feathers!" That's my mom. I hope that when I grow up and have kids, that I will be half of the women that she is. She is fierce, beautiful, and courageous.
One of my current classes that I'm enrolled in is novel writing. It's a good class. So, over the course of a year we end up writing a heroic novel. My novel went throug a lot of grooming and primping. But, the main character wasn't a challenge at all. I kept thinking to myself, "if I could meet this hero in her situation what would I want her to be like?" So, I kept putting down characteristics of the ideal hero, and viola! My indian warrior was born. My teacher, who is fabulous by the way, kept asking if my hero was based off of anyone in particular, since the hero had so much personal background. And it hit me. I single handedly described my mother. My heroic persona was my mother. Everything I dreamt of a hero being was everything my mother embodies.
I wouldn't dream of having another person for my mother and best friend. She has me and my brother's back no matter what, and for that I am extremely grateful. So, this thanksgiving and every other one, past and present, I am thankful for my mom. The fiercest and most beautiful women ever. Love you mom.
One of my current classes that I'm enrolled in is novel writing. It's a good class. So, over the course of a year we end up writing a heroic novel. My novel went throug a lot of grooming and primping. But, the main character wasn't a challenge at all. I kept thinking to myself, "if I could meet this hero in her situation what would I want her to be like?" So, I kept putting down characteristics of the ideal hero, and viola! My indian warrior was born. My teacher, who is fabulous by the way, kept asking if my hero was based off of anyone in particular, since the hero had so much personal background. And it hit me. I single handedly described my mother. My heroic persona was my mother. Everything I dreamt of a hero being was everything my mother embodies.
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