A Mother's Love
It was never about having the best of everything, but having the ability to make the best of anything.
Despite being broke, running from an abusive marriage and moments of not knowing where she and her daughter might sleep that night or eat next, she still found hope in the simple things. Whether she was the main attraction as a bongo playing go-go dancer or a single mom raising her daughter working at the chicken factory, she always embraced life fully. It might not have been the life that she had envisioned, but she simply took a paint brush and painted one that was even better.
Our Story
After my mother had enough of the abuse, she finally left with a little girl in tow. The road ahead wouldn't be easy. My mother's man picker was hopelessly broken. No matter what life dealt her, whether it was another failed marriage or homelessness, she always kept moving forward. With grit, determination and a flat-out refusal to give up on herself, she finally found the place that would be her home for the next 40 years in a little trailer park. This would be the first place that she would live on her own, where she called the shots, and no one could take it away from her.
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It was a humble home, but it was hers. In front of our place, some people saw a field of swampy grass, but we called it waterfront living. She had found her own little piece of paradise. Finally, she lived by her own rules. We had good times too. Whether it was racing cans of soup down the uneven floors of our cabin in the trailer park that once was a chicken coup to driving around in her old Plymouth while she sang Bobby Mcgee, that would rival Janis herself. While she worked on perfecting her version of Bobby Mcgee or Ode to Billie Joe, I would take a nap lying across the seat because the only seatbelt back then was my mother's arm which worked well, until I fell out of the car, just a few scratches though thanks to my puffy winter coat.
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On those days that she didn't have daycare, she would bring me to the chicken factory where she worked. She was the most stylish chicken-plucker too with lashes, lipstick and hot pants. I would sit on the bottom of her stoop watching the chicken guts wash by me on the floor, while she stood on an assembly line at the top of the stoop and cleaned chickens. It would be sitting there on those longs days that I learned to take pride in what you do, no matter the job. I learned the value of hard work, what it takes to earn a dollar, and most importantly, the value of independence.
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We didn't have much but we had each other. Sometimes, I loved it. Sometimes, I resented it. All the time, I knew that she was doing the best she could with what she had. By watching her, I learned how to persevere with a certain 'take no prisoners' type of fierceness, along with a lot of laugher and love. These would be just a few of the life-saving lessons that would carry me through to today.
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