Fond Memories of Terrible Times

We never gave up on each other, until we did. The bond that formed between my mother and I seemed like a sacred union that not even God himself could interfere with. For the longest time we were all that we had and that's what made us inseparable. Unfortunately, petty family squabbles drove a wedge between us and we haven't been the same since. All that I'm left with are distant memories of the best relationship I've ever had with anybody. She was more than my mom; she was my best friend. Truth be told, she was my only friend. But, if you were to only have one friend, she was a pretty cool friend to have. I was grateful and happy to have her in my life, but even as a kid I couldn't help but wonder what her life would have been like if she never had me.

I remember seeing a picture of my mom when she was young. My first thought was how pretty she was. My second thought was that I felt guilty for interrupting her life. Who knows what she could've been if she didn't have me? She had ambitions and dreams, but never achieved them because her priorities had to be readjusted. That guilt weighed heavy on me for a long time afterwards and I thought to myself: "I can't allow my mom to be ashamed of her son. I have to do things that will make her proud". That thought came to me around the age of 6 and everything I've done since then has been for the sake of giving my mother a legacy that she can be proud of.

When it came to teaching ethics and principles, my mom preferred to teach through practical applications. Some of these lessons I believe were intentionally set up, but others were purely coincidental. Either way, I walked away with valuable perspectives and understandings.

During my most formative years, my mom worked two jobs and was absent for a good portion of the time. However, she was still able to remain the most powerful presence in my life. When she couldn't watch me, I would spend the day at my abuelos'. They didn't speak English very well, but their house was paradise to me. I always made sure to bring my swimming trunks and goggles for the giant pool out back. Abuela always kept her fridge full of food and the freezer full of ice cream. Sometimes, I got to watch tv on my own in the living room, but most of the time I practiced Spanish by watching Univision with my abuelo's. Even though their house was a great mini-vacation, the best part of my day was towards the end. I would try and stay up as late as I could so that I could be awake when mom came to pick me up from work. The day had always tired me out and I could never make it past 8:30 pm. That was okay though. Sleeping just meant that I could make the time go by faster. My favorite part of the evening was that moment where I'd be gently disturbed from my sleep to be told that mom was here to pick me up. A giant wave of relief would wash from my shoulders and chest and I could finally relax knowing that mom had made it back to me safely. After a long day of back to back clockwork, the last bit of energy she had went towards cradling me in her arms and carrying me out the door. The day was a blast and I had more ice cream than any kid should be allowed, but nothing was better than that safe, secure, loving feeling of being held in your mother's embrace. Those are my earliest memories of my mom. Even though I didn't see much of her, the brief moments that I can remember are my favorite memories of all. Thank you mom, for the lessons in patience and understanding. You did what you had to do and I loved you for it.

As time went on, my mom wanted to be able to spend more time with me without having work obligations interfere. So, she got our house certified as a childcare facility. It still wasn't much money, but it was enough to keep us afloat and more importantly, together. At most, she had about 7 kids in the daycare at one time. I also liked it because it was kind of like having part-time brothers and sisters. During the day, I would have the company of a bunch of other kids and the house would be alive. By 6 o'clock, it would just be mom and I enjoying all of the time that we had together. Even though our personal time was nice and relaxing, I still enjoyed the company of other children. Having more kids in the house almost made it feel like there was more of a family. I was glad that it wasn't an actual family though. Times were hard enough as it was and I knew that my mom couldn't afford another baby, as badly as I wanted a little brother or sister.

One day, I had stumbled upon a loose dollar that I assumed belonged to one of the kids. I was about the age where you're still developing your moral compass and have no reservations about making a bad call. I picked up the dollar because... well, finders keepers. The next day, My mom approached me and asked: "Savannah lost a dollar yesterday. Did you see it or pick it up?". In retrospect, this was obviously a setup to test my moral integrity. Without any hesitation, I looked my mom straight in the eye, furrowed my brow in deep contemplation, and "hmmm'd" for dramatic effect. "No. I don't think I saw it", I replied confidently. She shook her head in acknowledgement and walked away.

"How easy was that?", I thought to myself. "Lying rules. What else can I get away with?". As I laid back in my bed, feeling extremely proud for really selling the hell out of that lie, I could tell that something was wrong. There was a weird tension in the air. I slowly got out of my bed, stood at my doorway, and craned my neck into the living room. What I saw at that instant turned my entire world upside down. My mother was hunched over on a stool, shrouded in a visible aura of sadness and disappointment. Her face rested in her palms as her knees braced her elbows. It was the first time that I ever saw my mother hurt. What's worse was that I knew exactly what caused it. My blatant dishonesty was the direct cause of my mom's sadness and I had to do something to fix it. I couldn't bare to see her in pain because of something I had done. When she felt my hand upon her shoulder, she took her sobbing face out of the small pool of tears cupped in her palms and saw the dollar dangling in front of her face. "I'm sorry", I said with sincerity. She took the dollar and said "thank you for being honest". As quickly as I tasted the sweet power of deception, I gagged on it's spoiled, rotten aftertaste. Even though lying was this newly discovered and amazing power, if this is how it made your loved ones feel, I never wanted to lie again and I never did. Thank you mom, for the lesson in integrity and honesty. I would surely be worse off without it.

Thanks to all of the "Miyagi" moments that my mom shared with me, I think I turned out as morally sound as anyone could have. She did the best job that a single mother could ever do. It wasn't until recently that I began to truly appreciate everything that she did to make our lives work. Considering all that she went through and how well she fared through adversity, I can't imagine how anyone wouldn't be able to respect her. With no car, she took late night city buses to get groceries. When she couldn't afford to be away from her child, she started a home business and made her son the priority. If she didn't have money to buy herself something nice, it was because she spent it on something that made me happy. We never had fights or arguments. I loved her as a friend and respected her as a parent. Everyday that I take a breath, I am grateful to my mother.

One last anecdote about the first time I realized how much I loved my mom: It was the Summer of 1994 in Phoenix, AZ. A flimsy, plastic, blue kiddie pool sat in the front yard and had been absorbing the sun's heat all morning. Mix that with scalding hot water from the rubber hose and in a matter of seconds, a child can have himself his own private hot tub where he can relax his little muscles after a long wearisome day of imitating the Tasmanian devil. No hot tub experience would be complete without bubbles either. Coming equipped with my Eeyore bubble bath, I hopped into the soothing warm water that my lovely mother hosed into my tub like a white trash Roman spouting fountain. I remember the carefree fun I had as I filled the tub with bubbles and splashed around. My mom would spray me with the hose from time to time and have a laugh. The heat from the afternoon sun would pour all over your body and smother you in warmth. Nope, there didn't seem to be a cause for concern at all on this lovely, sunny day.

A few minutes into my "outside bath", a young couple holding an infant walked into our front yard and approached my mom. They introduced themselves, my mom reciprocated. I listened in. The couple had a proposition for my mom. As soon as I heard it, my heart swelled up into my throat and I was suffocating from fear. The couple had presented their young baby who couldn't have been more than a year old. The father told my mom: "We just had this baby. We're having a lot of problems and my wife is getting frustrated. We haven't slept at all and we're looking for options". I wondered what possible options could he be talking about? "Would you trade you baby for ours?", he asked frankly.

In hindsight, I should have had more faith in my mother, but this potential threat was real and in the moment. I legitimately thought that my mom would take these strangers up on their offer. I was worried about how they would treat me if they couldn't even love their own kid. I saw my potential future flash before my eyes. I thought about how miserable life would be with them and how lucky this baby was going to be with a better parent. This could be the last day that I ever see my mom again and the life that I know and love will never be the same again. A part of me wished that pool went deeper so that I could sink to the bottom and disappear.

Her answer seemed to take forever, which made my anxiety worse. It makes sense that her answer took a while to spit out. It's not very common to be asked by strangers if you want to trade babies. Finally, after what seemed like hours, my mom replied "No". As soon as I heard her refusal, I said to myself "I owe her big time for that one. Now you know that she loves you enough not to trade you". Ever since that day, I have had a profound respect for my mom and for all that she has done for me. Thank you for struggling, sacrificing, and surviving. Thank you for teaching me how to be a good person. Thank you for showing me love. Thank you for setting the example for the type parent I should strive to be. Thank you letting me be a part of the ride and sharing life's ups and downs. Thank you for caring. Thank you for being a great friend and perfect mother.

There are so many more great things that we can say about mother's; more than we could ever write. Rest assured mom, your memory will never be forgotten and our fondest memories live forever in my heart to be shared with the next generation. Respect and love to all great mother's. Without them, we wouldn't be here. Seriously, I'm pretty sure my dad would've traded me.