Here is to my dearest Mother; amphibian lover and beyond.
Chapter 10: MOM
My Mom is the absolute shit. Even though when I was child she would discipline me, watch my every move and not let me get away with murder; now I realize her heart has always been in the right place.
A single Mom early on in the game, my Mom dug deep and did what she needed to do to make sure I plenty of rare beef on the my plate, good clothes to wear and a very decent room over our heads.
My Mom was so beautiful, wonderful, making sure I was always taken care of, even though at the time, I could not appreciate the magnitude of her kindness; another great thing about my Mom was, when we were out and about, she would make sure I didn’t eat anything rotten.
“Jawnie. Don’t touch those chicken fingahs. They’re rotten”, My Mom would exclaim with a conviction after perusing a plate of suspect chicken fingahs heading my way.
My Mom always took me to great places and communicated with me even through the hardest times when I was confused, beside myself and wanted to run away; My Mom would even con me when I was constipated to drink a chocolate shake laced with prune juice to get me healthy again.
My fuckin Mom: Sometimes a little too high energy, but who am I to point to legitimate fingah and not a chicken fingah at anyone?
Back road drives, taking me to a magical place called The Grismill Mill and my every Friday run thru the drive thru at Burger King where my Mah would be screaming into the intercom to order.
“CAN YOU HEAR ME!” MY Mom was truly mentally ill on this level, screaming like a banshee, terrorizing the employee on the other end taking our order.
Back at our humble abode where my Mom’s taste and decor was always immaculate, we would hang out and watch TV and be one with the moment; Here is some poetic piece I would like to share about my Mah:
Love from a blessed soul always outweighs grief of any magnitude.
(My Mom is my greatest strength.)
So stunning she is with her glowing, pristine beauty and her unconditional love. My Mom always lends ease when I struggle to find purpose within my sometimes rattled mind. (I can always envision my Mom’s compassionate blue-eyed stare upon me whether it rains or shines.)
From the earliest days of lying in my hand-made cradle, I can recall my Mom checking on me, lifting me up, holding me within her caring arms. My Mom would whisper such quaint, simplistic syllables of understanding and comfort inside my impressionable ears. (There was no wrong.)
As I grew older, I recollected upon hearing a herd of wild horses the day after I survived my first night. My Mom was there to comfort me through the fear, through all of the unknown.
My Mom, with God’s blessing, is my Creator, my power to carry on. Always here and never lost, forever within my beating heart.
My Mom has stood by me time and time again and always when the smoke clears, showing immense love that is undeniable. Our relationship only grows stronger, more honest, more pronounced. I love you, Mom. You are my everything.