Walking around together, you would think there is not much to our relationship. In fact, you may ask if she is my older sister. However, the only problem with that assumption is, we are actually mother and daughter.
I first met Veronica in the womb. From the start there would be more to our relationship than meets the eye. I had seen my youthful mother, prance around the kitchen trying to prepare dinner. Her normal ruckus of music was blasting loud throughout the house. She was wearing her signature pink scrubs pants and polka dot scrub shirt. I could tell she was on a mission and did not want to be disturbed. So being myself, I figured it would be the perfect time to tell her she would be my interviewee. When I spoke to her about doing the interview she told me, “My responses will be different from people your age because I tell in like it is.” With that in mind, I was up for the challenge and began the thought-provoking interview. It was unlike any conversation I had ever had with my mother, one of seriousness, but comfortable informality.
It was late in the evening and my mother was trying to prepare dinner and settle down from a long day at work. We began our conversation in the kitchen. My mother was seasoning chicken with her special ingredients, and I was following her every move. Each time she shifted from one area of the kitchen to the other I’d cling on like a child in distress. As I got to know her better, I realized Veronica is power house, free spirit, and nurturer. She told me she was most proud of finishing her billing classes. But I did not know this. I thought she was most proud of her recent marriage. Conversely, she considered finishing school as one of her greatest achievements, “I can now start my own business and would like to retire early.”
Considering the colorful events from the past few months, I thought this would be a great opportunity to salvage what I might have left of a relationship that started in the womb. When switching to the subject to revolve around my schooling the pitch of her voice dropped angrily. I could tell she did not want to discuss this, but I wanted to know. “For the experience”, she answered when I asked her why did she allow me to attend a university she knew she could not afford. “God works in mysterious way, why question what he can do?” The response was clear and cut throat. My mother did what she wanted to do, and it was