The story of my mother

In a small little glen in Scotland there was a little girl who believed in fairies. She had thin tufts of blond hair, an upturned nose and grey eyes that were always filled with books and imagination. She had a father who was a farmer but always wanted to be a scholar and a mother with a penchant for drama and beautiful border hats. She looked like her mum, the same cleft chin and square face. It was strong genetics, they passed all this on to me eventually.  The little girl loved playing the woods, and one time she accidentally set fire to the barn near her house.  From what I know of this time, it sounds idyllic, but this was but a brief snippet in time. She had two identical twin sisters who were ten years older than she and had long gone from the house. She was left hours in her imagination.

One day, when she was nine years old, she came home from school and her uncle sat her down and told her that ” Her father had gone to rest with the angels.”. She was not allowed to go to the funeral, people feared she was too small and needed protection. After that, her whole life changed. They sold the sprawling little farm, and moved into the city for at the time a woman was not going to have the property. It was just her mum and her, and her mum suffered from epilepsy. A year after they moved , when my mother was ten years old she had a fight with her mother over doign the dishes . She marched upstairs to watch her favorite television program. She heard a crash downstairs, and plates breaking. Her mother had collapsed with a heart attack and died. She was an orphan at ten years old.

This is where my mother’s life could have been a series of pity parties and tragedies. She went to boarding school and graduated early at 16 and went off to ireland. She had boyfriends , and seeked out a life for herself. But somehow, she didn’t become a wild child but became a Bahai and by age 20 was on the plane to America where she met my hippie father. Three months later they got married. My father was Peter Pan, he never grew up and they had me shortly after in a trailer in New Mexico.

My mom grew up fast, and she became a mother. I am not sure how she knew how to become a mother as supportive and giving as she is or how my father who had wonderful parents was completely incapable of being a responsible parent.

Despite this, my mom’s belief and faith kept us afloat. She put herself through college, she became a teacher and she desperately wanted another child and eventually adopted my younger brother. They came to El Salvador in the middle of the civil war and made this tropical country their home.

It was not a good marriage, it was dark, and there were many days where my mother’s strong arms protected us from the horrible things that happened.. but somehow my mom was able to keep us afloat and when they divorced and she was a single mom she somehow was able to pay for most of our expenses. Thankfully, my grandparents on my dad’s side helped me, but my mum somehow managed to put lucas through college.
My mum envisioned something, and it came to pass. She wanted a green Toyota Rav, and somehow she would get a Green Toyota Rav. She wanted to move to London, she would make it happen. She didn’t have parents behind her, so her sheer determination and will made things happen for her. Her love for us made things go along. I don’t think she realizes how rare this is, and how it is not that easy to achieve for other people such as myself. She willed her life to be better and so it was.

She is not a victim of circumstance, she is a survivor.  Her love for her family kept us strong. Today is her birthday, the sum of things that is my mother, who by all accounts is my best friend and the person I rely on the most.  She is the best mother I could have asked for and it is by the grace of God that she was placed in my life.

Happy birthday mom.