My Mother

MY MOTHER

My mother is like my father.

Does it really matter if she's a woman?

She is the man of our house.

The one who made sure all the doors were locked at night.

The one that woke up at 3:00 every morning to make sure I was alright.

The only one in the hospital with me at midnight because of an asthma attack.

The one that checked under my bed every night for monsters.

The one who wanted to learn how to shoot a gun to protect us.

The one that told me to be strong, crying wouldn't solve anything.

The one I made a card for on Father's Day.

I could not forget though that she was also my mother.

The one who quit singing just to be able to tuck me in at night. Singing had taken her away for one too many nights.

The one who came with pom poms to every volleyball game.

The one who insulted my father for missing out on me.

The one who shared all my accomplishments on Facebook. Just getting one serve at volleyball over deserved a public announcement.

The one who could read my face like it was her favorite piece of sheet music.

The one who always threatened to beat up the girls that made me cry.

The one who made me what I am today, strong, smart, a believer in all things.

She made feel worthy of being Leslie Tanner's daughter.

My mother is like my father.

Does it really matter if she's a woman?