There were many times in my life when I came across the question of who my hero was. The question would shift and change but it always meant the same. Who Inspired me? Who was molding and shaping me into the woman I would become? I would ponder and yet I always saw the answer. The sweet eyes and quiet strength of my grandmother was an image that would appear in my mind. As I grew up, I understood womanhood and what it means to have passion from what I consider, my other mother. I know that the question of who my inspiration was had only been my conscience not wanting to feel guilty. I was raised by my father and my mother was still present in my life. I chose to ask myself the question even though I always knew.