Day 3

Your Parents

Ahh, my parents.
My parents haven't been together since I was about 2 or 3, and for good reason. They don't belong together. I don't know if they ever really did, but I can't complain too much since they brought about my existence. I suppose it makes much more sense to talk about them separately then.

My mom works so hard to make life easier for people. We didn't have much growing up and still, she worked jobs that made her put in 16 hour days just to feed us. She struggled with a lot of stuff of her own, and we had a lot of ups and downs, but she made it all work. I love my mom so much. She may not be the best cook, or do my laundry or know all of my friends' names or that fact that in Southern Hemisphere is currently in Spring, but she knew how to survive and how to help her children survive and that's all you can ask for. She invented games and sang me to sleep and played the part of my cheerleader better than anyone. I love you, Mom.

Now, Michelle. Michelle works her butt off, too. She has a whole crap load of struggles and things to deal with that the majority of the world will never ever have to worry about. Most of us were born into whatever gender we are and never once thought that maybe it wasn't right. That maybe someone made a mistake. We take that completely for granted. My dad doesn't get that same opportunity. She had to fight against a society that still, to this day, tells her she's wrong. She's evil. She's second class. But she's not. Not in the slightest. What kind of evil, second class parent would wake up at 7am and drive 3 hours to go get some bockwurst and have an awesome day with her daughter? What kind of evil, second class parent would take you to the lazarium three weekends in a row to see the same show just because you thought it was awesome. What kind of evil, second class parent would do nothing but support you when you were struggling through the sometimes horrifying process of coming out? Can't think of any? Me either.