My hero’s

This morning I read an article where the interviewer asked someone about who their greatest hero was. I didn’t read long enough to get the answer. But I imagine they would list a celebrity or political figure, maybe a someone in sports even. When I think of my biggest hero’s I don’t think of any of those. I think of my family. I think of my mother who worked harder than anyone I know, and would show up no matter what, working her way up into a management position when she had started off cleaning tables and got the job cleaning tables off sheer luck and her very like-able personality. I think of my grandmother who served in the military, traveled Europe, and raised her son as a single mother well before any of that was socially acceptable for a black woman in the US in the 1940’s and 1950’s. I think of my father who worked for 20 years to support his family, and did his personal best despite all of the challenges his life and his choices had cast upon him. And my siblings who fight a good fight, each and every one of them a force to be reckoned with and all of us making our way one way or another. And don’t get me wrong, not for a second do I pretend that its easy, ever been easy, or ever will be easy to love all of my folk. But I do. Our families are the ones that give us the first idea of who we are and what we can or can not do.

They can be our best allies, biggest obstacles but for most of us they fall somewhere in between. A mix of biological love and regular interactions and experiences creates this bond that can truly anchor us.