Long before I was conceived, my mother was dating a malevolent man, who had many bad habits, which had evolved into severe addictions. After my mother got pregnant with me, she began to accept the fact that she had made an enormous mistake. Oh, the mistake was not me; the mistake was having me without a dependable father to rely on. My biological father was not only a drug addict, but he was an alcoholic. He almost put my impoverished mother on the streets in bankruptcy.

When I hear the word hero, I automatically think of my mother. A hero, in my book, is defined as an extraordinary person, who makes life-altering decisions for someone else. The day when my mom put my biological father out on the street was the beginning of a long, endless journey that would be nothing less than extremely difficult for her. To this day, I am so proud of her for making that decision. In my heart, I know how much I would like to see my biological father again just so I could confront him. Not a day goes by when I don’t sit and think about how much my mother worked just to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table. My mother is the only woman I know, who could hold three jobs and still have time to put up with a severely colicky baby such as I was.

My mother always pointed me in the right direction. It didn’t matter whether she thought what I was doing was pointless or not, she was always there for me; physically, spiritually, mentally, and emotionally. She has always provided me with everything I have ever wanted and needed; even through the tightest weeks, she somehow managed to provide for me. To this day, when I see her, I see a smile that lights up her face as big as the Northern Star. I persistently hear her saying how much she loves me and how proud she is of me and of my accomplishments. Every time I give her a hug, I feel an overabundance of love and security. When I taste the incredible meals that she spends countless hours on preparing, I taste the love. Every time I smell the expensive cologne that she wears, I think of her and know that everything will be alright.

Just thinking about her and her husband whom she married, and who adopted me at the age of four, makes me feel grateful and joyful. I am extremely proud to call her and her husband, Leslie, my mom and dad. If it were not for them, my heroes, I would be a very sad, lonely individual, leading a lackluster life.