Saturday, May 18, 2013
This was written for an essay contest a year ago (April 2012) enjoy!
“Y’know Mia, girls just don’t grow up to be mommies.”
I perked up, suddenly my car seat perch for window gazing and headband driving seemed less interesting.
“Really?” I squealed as my abnormally large eyes widened to consume my facial features. At four, my mother was my playmate, guardian, mentor and my best friend.
“Yes Mia,” and followed by highlighting the women in my life who maintain careers and are successful mothers at the same time. If they could do it, I could too.
What could be cooler than being like my mom and hanging out with me? After my four year old mind gave the thought little to no attention, I resumed my ribbon-headband driving with agitated enthusiasm. Little did I know that this small nugget of advice would carry me through the rest of my career.
From field hockey games and pageants to piano, dance and flute recitals, my mother has been there for me as my number one fan and supporter though all of my endeavors. And when it came to schooling and my journey to college, anything but success was not an option.
“If you’re going to be something you might as well be the best at it,” she says.
I was outfitted with a smartly fashionable wardrobe, color coordinated dorm décor, a laptop and textbooks, hours of last-minute advice, and enough produce to last me a few months.
So we furnished my room completely, hung my clothes in a much too small closet, and packed my produce away. My mother surveyed the room with her arms akimbo, obviously pleased with her work. We looked at each other as she smiled broadly. I knew it was time for my family to go.
I had slept away from home before at numerous field hockey and leadership camps, but this time I felt alone. With a roommate I just met, mastering college-level classes, and navigating a completely new town, I was concerned and bewildered. Without a word, my mother sensed my sentiment and drew me into a hug.
I felt like I was losing my best friend.
“Be nice to the other kids, ok?” We hugged, I began sobbing.
“Mia Simms, this is the first day of the beginning of the rest of your life. Don’t be so sad. It’s a new beginning, cheer up. Your future awaits you. Go and get it.” We drew apart, and I dried my eyes and feigned a brave countenance, just for her.
Through the all-nighters, exams, term papers, lost phones and boy issues, my mother has been the consistent beat of sanity to the melody that has become the soundtrack to my life. And I find that writing this essay at the conclusion of my Undergraduate studies here at Virginia Tech is all the more apt in its delivery. As I accept my diploma in 2012 and assume alum status to begin my career as a Social Media Manager and Blogger, I’ll always remember that girls just don’t grow up to be mommies.