My Mother

It takes a specific type of patience to 'get' her. To understand her in the present time, you'd have to understand her in the past.
Her mind is constantly racing; always moving, never at ease. Even in her sleep, her thoughts are restless. She wakes as if she never slept. When she's driving--as cars pass her and cut her off, she speaks her thoughts out loud: did I unplug the small oven?
That question alone-as harmless as it may sound-can trigger a domino effect of possible unfortunate events. "If I left the small oven plugged in, then that means it can still be on, and if it's on, then it can start a fire. If it starts a fire, then it'll burn the whole place down, and since we live in an apartment complex, then that means everyone else's apartment will burn down too!"
It's that type of neurotic thinking that can be contagiously poisoning.
I'm not proud to admit this but it's the truth: I make the conscious (and subconscious) attempt NOT to be like my mom. She's emotional and moody. She's over analytical and insecure. She worries more than she breathes and everything is overwhelming for her. She can't trust anyone and so, subsequently, no one can completely trust her.
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I'm learning more about myself just by learning more and my mom. It's a surreal feeling to have more than one perspective of your mother--as the daughter. Living and growing up with her--without everyone else--has forced me to see her more than what I believed she was. She's not just a 'mom.' She was a little girl once, also indifferent towards her mother, begging for freedom without being abandoned. She was a sister who lost her big brother to a unresolved homicide. She was a a wife who wished for romance and assurance from a distant husband. And today, I think the most significant thing I've learned about her is that, in the end, she is a woman, a human being, NOT a robot, NOT an angel, but a creation loved by God. She makes mistakes, she arrives to places late. She gets lost. She trips and spills things. She throws things when she's angry. She cries when she's upset. She flinches when she's scared.
And nonetheless, she is--my hero.
To live and survive life will forever be inspiring to me. She is thoughtful of herself and of others. I like to believe that I've gotten my caring and charismatic side from her. I like to think the reason why I have so much love for my sister, my brothers, my friends and Life is because of her. My mother.