My Wonderful Mother

The woman I call my mom is not in society's terms my "real" mother. My father has been married five times and one of these women was Rhonda (he actually married two different women named Rhonda but that is a whole other story). She came into my life when I was in first grade and though her marriage to my father was short-lived she was in my life to stay. When my father packed his bags and moved out, Rhonda and I begged him to let me stay, if only for a few months to finish the school year. I was almost done with third grade by this time. He did let me stay and actually never cared to come get me back, which in restrospect I am so incredibly grateful for. I loved Rhonda from the day I met her. Maybe it was because I had never experienced a mother before but I could not physically leave her side sometimes. She tells me she would wake up to find me laying on the floor next to her bed and sometimes she would have to call me in absent to school because I was beside myself with the idea of her leaving me. I was a model student in high school making sure to not get into any trouble because there was no way I was disappointing someone that very well could have saved my life. When I was in my first semester of college at MCCKC, the rebelliousness finally caught up with me and I started misbehaving...bad. Drug and alcohol addiction don't just run in my family, they take up whole sides of my family. Rhonda knew this but the more she pushed I pushed back. We got into a huge row and I left the house and didn't call or return for almost a week, which is the longest I had not spoken to her since that fateful day in first grade. We met up at her office after hours to talk things out and she asked me why I would do these things knowing what road I could go down. I told her what I had never voice out loud to anyone: she would leave me someday...when she figured out she didn't have to stay. I was unloveable. She stared at me like I had slapped her. I am sure I looked the same since I had no idea where those words even came from. I guess deep down I thought that eventually there would be no reason for her to stay. You see, she wasn't my real mother and had no obligation to love me. I knew this so she had to know this too. She stared me down and told me that she would never leave me, always love me, and that I was her child whether I liked it or not. We did the normal female thing of hugging and rocking while crying at the same time. To this day, that is such a shining and defining moment in my life. I am worthwhile and I am capable of loving and allowing myself to be loved and I have my true mother-of-the-heart to thank for it. I love you Momma, more that you can ever imagine.