Rough Hands, Soft Heart

I’m thankful to have been raised by a woman who refused to equate softness with weakness. - A woman who also refused to instill in her daughters the belief that their masculine energy had to play second chair to the feminine.

I was raised by a woman who believed that coveralls and dresses were entitled to equal space in our respective wardrobes.

A woman who made our Dodge Ram run on a steady stream of Def Leppard and Celine Dion.

I was taught how to be both the woman and man of the house by someone with rough hands and a soft heart.

Hands that painstakingly built me a guitar so that I could be Gene Simmons when night fell on my fourth Halloween, and held me close when I got my heart broken by a stupid boy for the first time ten years later.

A heart that has survived twenty-five years of hard labour yet shatters at the hands of Disney Pixar writers time and time again.

I was raised by a woman who taught me both how to bake the perfect cake and most efficiently caulk baseboard.

I was raised by a woman who taught me to be fearless in the pursuit of that which set my heart on fire regardless of what others might think of it.

I was raised by a woman who kept news clippings praising her dedication to her craft, pictured dressed in Carhardts and drywall dust, next to those from her highlighted and hairsprayed pageant days.

I’m thankful to have been raised by a woman who refused to instill in me a belief that I had to choose between eyelash extensions and martial arts, Nicholas Sparks and Stephen King, or being hard and staying soft.

I was raised by a woman who taught me that it’s alright to be the loudest person in the room sometimes.

Just as it is to be the quietest.

I was raised by a woman who taught me crying isn’t shameful. Tear stained sleeves beat out bruised knuckles every time.

I’m lucky to have been raised by a woman who believes a woman’s place is wherever the fuck she wants it to be, just as is a mans.

I have been loved through life by a woman who once told me that little girls can grow up to be whatever they want to be and it’s nobodies business but their own.

I’m thankful to have been raised by a woman with rough hands and a soft heart.

A woman who has always, and will always, welcome me to meet hers with my own.