Sharing Her Flame

This is the Year of the Dragon, and I was born in February. My mother did that. I am happy as I type away and embark on writing about the Dragon she is for me.

Let me start by saying, it is not easy. We have our differences. There are things we do not agree with and the flame can get hot. Very hot. And every time it does, I know it is because of our love for each other. A love that I will never be able to describe.

What I can describe:

Her push for me.

She will tell it like it is. At times, I do believe it is what she envisions, but I know that this vision is out of love and an earnest belief in me and OUR ambition. So does it strike a chord? Of course. Yet, every time I am brought to this place, I am reminded that I can do more. I am reminded to ponder my actions. I am reminded to do what I stand for. I am reminded that I can be myself, and I must be myself.

Her fight for me.

From when I was child and she was held at gun point to her speaking with my teachers, to her calling me when she did not like the photos she saw on Instagram, to her searching for collaborative roles in my fitness journey. And oh yea, the countless cheering she did for me, and even camcorder holding at basketball games. I can always sense a joy whenever she sat courtside or deep in the bleachers.

Her cheering for me.

To go back to the basketball games - she was always there ready to cheer. And a story, moment, love, decision that I will forever share and remember - 6th grade Christmas vacation, my mom said no more TV, and she dropped me off at the Boys & Girls Club. I picked up a basketball and the rest is history.

Her questions for me.

They're tough. Yet, the more and more I look back, I understand where they come from and I appreciate how not easy they were. To ask and to hear the answers to. Maybe I don't give the answer she is looking for, but I can appreciate her searching for answers, and then over time I love revisiting these questions.

Her work for me.

From multiple jobs, to ambitious negotiations and roles, to holding the house together, cleaning, cooking, hosting, day in and day out, she teaches me what it means to work. She gets her hands dirty and she gets sweaty, whether it is from gardening, to srubbing floors, she really knows no other way, and in the most serendipitous way, she makes the work look beautiful. This makes my life easier because I know I must, can, and will work harder.

Her love for me.

She will go through a brick wall. This I know, and always say. She has her ways of showing support and at times, it might not 'show', but man, I can feel tears balling up and emotions stirring as I recollect on the moments of where I feel the love. Her life was/is not easy, as it holds true for all of us.. yet, the moments when she does open up, it is life changing each time to feel her heart.

Thank you, Mom. I love you. Happy Birthday. You gave me life.

*** This is now written as I am upstairs peaceful as can be because we got to celebrate you. You are our fire. May all your wishes continue to come true. Kocham cię.