My father taught me how to love a woman. No, he never sat me down and said, “Junior, you have to do….. and always …….. but never….” We never had that moment. & yes he covered the birds and the bees. But it was only once and that was plenty. My father taught me how to love a woman because my father LOVES my mother. My father absolutely adores my mother. My mother could tell my father everything that was wrong with him and he would reply with all that was right with her…. Ok most times he did. chuckle. My father never, ever, yelled at my mother. He may not have always listened to what she said, but its evident he had the beat of her heart programmed on auto-reply. My father supported my mother. I remember when my mother was competing for her biggest professional accomplishment to date, my father worked day and night, in her shadow, to make sure she had everything she needed. How do I know? because during that time, when she was hustling, grinding, and striving to win, my brother and I spent nights with our grandparents, aunts, cousins, church members. Why? My dad was with her, in mind, body and spirit. There is a photo that I will never forget. My mother in the forefront, celebrating with her colleagues, my brother and I (very young) standing at her feet…my aunts and family friends exuberant in the background. & my father… standing firmly behind my mother… solid. My father loves my mother. My father taught me how to love a woman.
My mother taught me how to receive a woman. No she didn’t sit me down and say, “Maurice you need to listen….. don’t patronize….. that girl is not your…” We never had those moments. My mother is a strong woman. If there was a woman who “didn’t need no man”… it would be my mother. She takes no disrespect from anyone. My mother is graceful. The tone and versatility of her voice is uncanny; the ability to elude compassion and empathy before seamlessly transitioning into waves worthy of reverence and command…. yes she is that good. My mother is ambitious… a bookworm, never allowing her multiple degrees hinder her learning. My mother is “ride or die”, P.O.P trust and believe moms gon’ hold it down. I played sports from the time I was 3. Literally every sport, every season, my mother ran after me (& my dad, the coach), from field to field, court to court. On days when my brother and I had games at the same time, on the same day, she would hustle back and forth cheering for both her babies; no doubt she got all her steps in on that day. When my father ended up with classes on Saturday mornings, and could no longer coach…. Coach mama to the rescue. My mother will make the sacrifice of her life for those that she loves, yet ask for nothing in return. My mother loves my father, my brother, and I. She supports our decisions, challenges our lowly thoughts, and builds our spirits in our struggles. My mother is a Queen, you hear me, a Queen. & she taught me to receive nothing less.