A gem of a Mother.
She gets up early and makes sure lunches are made. She goes up and down the stairs, carrying basketfuls of dirty clothes, towels off the bathroom floor, socks from under the couch. She washes and folds them. Sometimes, she puts them away. She goes to work and takes shit in the form of mansplaining, getting catcalled, being gaslit by those with more zeros on their paychecks. She goes from here to there, always trying to get one or five steps ahead. She takes them to doctor appointments and tends to their wounds. When she cannot buy the medicine, she sells pieces of herself to pay the debt.
She grew them.
She nurtured them.
She wasn’t perfect.
She lost her temper sometimes.
A gem of a mother. She wonders if her adult child made it home safe and had enough to eat. She works second and third jobs to make sure they can do gymnastics, hockey and tutoring. She stays up late making sure school uniforms are ironed. She takes an extra bus in the rain and gets off of work early/stays late to make the talent show. She sells plasma to buy more Fortnite skins. She walks the streets while they are in school to make what her paycheck couldn’t.
Sometimes, everyone is mad at her. Sometimes, she is mad at herself. Sometimes, the same ones who cracked her open leave her laying on the floor, in pieces. Pieces of herself, held in calloused hands that no longer fit together. Everytime she breaks, on the hour, another fragment of her soul sinks its claws into her chest and reminds her she is failing.
She is a gem. Of a mother. Made of the earth, the grit, the friction of salt and water and blood and sweat and tears. Her jewels are the bones of every mother before her, strung festively on a strand of cobwebs and dreams. Old and new beads and stones are added and taken away. Sometimes new ones arrive through the portal of birth while others return to the stars.
She is you. She is me. I am her. We all come from a gem of a mother. She may be broken. She may have failed you. You might be failing yourself. The roughest stones are usually the most powerful, the most fragile and unapologetically raw. Perfect chaos meets vibrant truth. A friend recently told me redemption is the greatest gift known to us. And then, he handed me a mirror.