Saturday, May 9, 2020


Call Me a Momma’s Boy Again
Call me a momma’s boy.
Call me a momma’s boy again.
It doesn’t matter what you mean by calling me such a name.
If you think that calling me a momma’s boy is an insult,
that your words define me
as weak, or afraid
then you are very much mistaken.

I don’t know about your momma.
I do know all mommas are not the same.
I’ve lived long enough
to know some momma’s
never should have been,
but are
despite a lot
of life situations.
I know some momma’s struggle to be.
I know some momma’s never got a chance to be.
I know some momma’s whose chance
to love their child into adulthood get’s snatched away.
There are all kinds of momma’s,
all kinds of stories.
I do know my momma,
and as one of her three children, I can tell you
what it means to be her boy.
There’s an old photo of my mom
holding me when I was an infant.
I love that picture.
I’m asleep…
my big mouth wide open,
my head resting on her shoulder.
I didn’t know much then,
but I didn’t have to know anything to be loved and to love.
I know a lot of things now.
One of the things I know without a doubt is:
the woman who birthed me is fiercely
beautiful and strong.
Way back in the day
when culture worked to define women
within the confines of the home
as a homemaker, or a stay at home mom,
my mom
stepped outside the box and became.
What she became
has had a lot to do with what I have become.
She’s taught me a lot about life:
Be who God created you to genuinely be.
Expect others to be genuinely who they are.
When you fail to be genuine…admit it.
When others fail to be genuine…be aware.
Care deeply about your history, your story, where you came from.
Do something that matters…
that matters to you and that matters to others.
Don’t give up
even when that may be all you want to do.
Don’t stay in a box,
even when others say you should.
Laugh at yourself.
Invite others to laugh.
These are a few of her lessons for living.
There is not a day that goes by
that I remember
this woman
who gave me life
and taught me to be
the man God created me to me.
Yep,
I’m proud to be
a momma’s boy.
That’s me.
I love my momma.
Always have.
Always will.
And will always be.

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