Tomorrow my mom turns eighty. She grew up on the sugar cane plantations of Hawaii in deep poverty, raised her brothers and sisters when her mother died when she was fourteen, raised her own four children and then my niece when my sister was killed in a motorcycle accident at twenty three. If all that raising of people wasnt enough she helped raise my own children when Michael was in law school and I went to graduate school. She has survived poverty and violence and so much fear. I count giving my mother her own garden and a small cottage behind my house (the first space she has ever had to herself) among the most important accomplishments of my life. My mother always gave me a small corner in our apartment so that I could write and think. She never told me I was beautiful but always told me that I was smart and funny. My mom made me believe that there was not a single thing in the world that I could not do and has told me every day that I make her proud. My mom calls me her miracle baby because we both almost died on the day she gave birth to me - so my birthday is like her second birthday. But today is all hers. The bend in my mothers back comes from lifting so many children to her hip. Happy birthday mom! You have given me the space to become and for this I can never repay you.
Posted on: Mon, 11 Aug 2014 00:51:12 +0000
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