To All of My Mothers Who Weren't My Mother
To all of my mothers who weren't my mother.
Eleven women who added into one
to make up for the one i could have had
but who didn't care enough
to be that for me
To Alana, my babysitter
Who taught me how to brush my teeth, and make a tuna sandwich
To Leanne, my other babysitter
Who taught me how Easter should be
To Bree-Anna, my sister
Who brushed my hair and took me to school
Who shouldn't have done so much so young
But chose to anyway.
To Aunt Karen, my not-really-aunt-actually-second-cousin
Who taught me how to be gentle, and kind
To my Nan, my grandmother
Who took me in when I might have ended up in foster care
Who taught me how to experiment with ingredients to make the best cookies
and how to not take shit from anyone
To Shelly, my aunt
Who showed me how to be soft without being malleable
Who saved my life once when I was choking
To Cathy, my other aunt
Who taught me about what a tampon is, and how to use it
Can you believe that my aunt had to show me how to use a tampon?
To Nancy, my best friends mom
Who showed me what a mother daughter relationship should look like
The one who always made sure I was fed, even if it meant cooking food for me to take home
To Dana, my dad's ex girlfriend
Who taught me how to do my make up, and not over do it
Who showed me how to have fun and not care what anyone thought
Who made me realize that these women who aren't my mother loved me just as much
To Beth-Anne, my youth caseworker
Who walked me through losing my virginity,
And got me on birth control, and just let me TALK
To Bernice, my other other aunt
Who showed me my first glimpse of femininity
Who made me feel comfortable being a girl, and doing girl things
Whenever I smell coconut, I think of you, I think of how I flourished
You put me in sports teams, and took me shopping
You took me to get my braces on, and tightened, and removed
You stuck with me, and years later even took me grad dress shopping
You gave me a glimpse of what it might have been
If I really had a mom
And not just eleven different women
coming in and out of my life
like a windmill
Teaching me a valuable lesson
And then leaving like a gust of fragrant wind
I do not belong to any of these women
So of course they would not stay
And yet I cherish them greatly
And the things they have taught me
And the role that they have filled
To myself, the only one I can count on
Who taught herself how to deal with her first heartbreak
Who taught herself how to apply for college
Who grew up without a single constant in her life
But still turned out pretty great.
Eleven women who added into one
to make up for the one i could have had
but who didn't care enough
to be that for me
To Alana, my babysitter
Who taught me how to brush my teeth, and make a tuna sandwich
To Leanne, my other babysitter
Who taught me how Easter should be
To Bree-Anna, my sister
Who brushed my hair and took me to school
Who shouldn't have done so much so young
But chose to anyway.
To Aunt Karen, my not-really-aunt-actually-second-cousin
Who taught me how to be gentle, and kind
To my Nan, my grandmother
Who took me in when I might have ended up in foster care
Who taught me how to experiment with ingredients to make the best cookies
and how to not take shit from anyone
To Shelly, my aunt
Who showed me how to be soft without being malleable
Who saved my life once when I was choking
To Cathy, my other aunt
Who taught me about what a tampon is, and how to use it
Can you believe that my aunt had to show me how to use a tampon?
To Nancy, my best friends mom
Who showed me what a mother daughter relationship should look like
The one who always made sure I was fed, even if it meant cooking food for me to take home
To Dana, my dad's ex girlfriend
Who taught me how to do my make up, and not over do it
Who showed me how to have fun and not care what anyone thought
Who made me realize that these women who aren't my mother loved me just as much
To Beth-Anne, my youth caseworker
Who walked me through losing my virginity,
And got me on birth control, and just let me TALK
To Bernice, my other other aunt
Who showed me my first glimpse of femininity
Who made me feel comfortable being a girl, and doing girl things
Whenever I smell coconut, I think of you, I think of how I flourished
You put me in sports teams, and took me shopping
You took me to get my braces on, and tightened, and removed
You stuck with me, and years later even took me grad dress shopping
You gave me a glimpse of what it might have been
If I really had a mom
And not just eleven different women
coming in and out of my life
like a windmill
Teaching me a valuable lesson
And then leaving like a gust of fragrant wind
I do not belong to any of these women
So of course they would not stay
And yet I cherish them greatly
And the things they have taught me
And the role that they have filled
To myself, the only one I can count on
Who taught herself how to deal with her first heartbreak
Who taught herself how to apply for college
Who grew up without a single constant in her life
But still turned out pretty great.