Someone reminded me this morning that I have a blog to keep up with. I actually have 2 but one does not count unless you can actually figure out how to manipulate the damn thing.
My day has been filled with more sarcasm than the real world should ever have thrown upon it. I am quite full of myself sometimes. My Momma says this is a defense mechanism. My dear Momma never knew the art of sarcasm, just the art of guilt. And never really thrust upon you the way some people lay it on thick and heavy. She served it best by example. Slaving away day in, day out to ensure we had the best of everything....she set the bar so damn high.
I find myself looking at others with 'her look'. It is never one of failure but of knowing that somewhere deep inside, is the ability to exceed even what you thought was unobtainable. When I see her working so hard to just stay alive, I am reminded of the stock from which I was born. My mother's family was beyond poor but rich in family. I cannot say they were overflowing with love. They had their moments but somehow the kids were always shielded from the ugliness of grownup ways. I have cousins that would kill for me and not think twice about it. I have one who sleeps peacefully in a cemetary and my heart aches for him. He died defending a friend.
When I see my Momma laying there just trying to breathe, I am reminded of how much she fought to keep me. How when she was just a child herself, she decided to have me and worked two jobs to ensure we had everything we needed to live. My name, Lucinda, is her gift to me. She named me after her favorite girl nieces: Linda, Wanda, Cynthia & Rita.
These next few weeks, months and holidays will be hard reminders of how much I have missed while trying to carve out a life and identity for myself to only be reminded that even if I fail, I am my mother's daughter and that I am loved. Always.
