My mother’s name is Lydia. She named me Imogene Amelia, after both of my grandmothers. My mama is my rock and is always honest with me. Even today as a grown woman, with sons of my own, there is no safer place than with my mom. 

    My sister’s name is Antonette and she was fourteen when I was born. She always shared how excited she was to have a baby sister. She told me stories about pushing me in the buggy to meet her friends at the arcade to play pinball. She showed me how to dance and properly do a roundoff. 

    Mom was strengthening her skills of multi-tasking between two teenagers and two small children. Finding balance between disciplining and loving two separate generations under one roof took its toll on my parents. As a result, my older siblings did not live in the house anymore that we shared as a family. Our time together was short lived. 

    Soon after my sister left home, she became a new mom and got married. The roles we played were evolving, mom was now a grandma, and I was an aunt (at 7). Then she  expanded her family to four little ones and life was very busy. The marriage did not survive the demands and stress that raising kids brings and ultimately she divorced because of domestic abuse. Our mother encouraged her to seek help and she was brave enough accept it from Good Shepherd Shelter in Los Angeles. As a young girl I remember hearing words like underground and battered. These words described the situation but it did not define my sister. With the support of the nuns at Good Shepherd, she connected to the strong woman she always was. My mom was so proud of all she accomplished during her time in that sacred community of women. All of them courageous to leave the abuse and seek a safe, nurturing environment for themselves and their children. My sister became a hero in my mind after that experience. 

    When I was in high school I would have my carpool drop me off at Anonette’s house. I would ditch class and spend time with her and the kids. We listened to Dave Matthews Band, carted the kids to baseball practice and ate chili cheese fries in the bleachers. I learned how to drive in her gold Chrysler and got real talks about sex and drugs. During this time I became the sounding board for my mom and sister to express their frustrations about each other. Often, I was stuck in the middle of their struggle to understand each other. Staying neutral was a survival tactic to not betray my sister and not upset my mother. As they battled for the title of who knows best, I lost myself in journals and music hoping peace would come to my family. One thing that always remained constant through the drama was our unconditional love for the four grandkids. 

    After all of the adventures and celebrations, failures and successes we are standing stronger as women and family. We’re in a new kind of Super Mother Consciousness. Gone are the feelings of resentment and hurt. In its place are the seeds of hope and love planted this Mothers Day. My dream for us is to create, build and prosper everyday.  Happy Mothers Day.