Angel here!  Those of you who know me know my mother was everything to me.  She raised me to be the woman I am today.  She worked so hard for all we had growing up.

My mom raised me alone from the time I was 8 years old.  I can remember her working three jobs to make ends meet and provide all I needed and most of the things I wanted.

She made sure I had nice clothes, they may not have been brand new all the time but they were clean and presentable.  Our home was always neat and tidy.  Even when we lived in the smallest of places or with someone else she kept it respectable.

Momma went home to be with the Lord in July of 2008.  I don't have very many items left that belonged to her.  She never spent money on herself.  Always on me and others.  I had a nice bed and she wanted my room to be special because she always said that was a personal place for a young lady.  I remember when I was in 8th grade momma saved up enough money to buy a brand new bedroom suite for herself.  It was the first one she had ever had.  She was so proud of it.

When I got my first home momma gave me her bedroom suite to me.  I cherished it so much.  It reminded me to work hard and appreciate all I had.  Over the years the pieces wore out but I still have the dresser and chest of drawers.  They are both scratched, drawers are broken, and not in the best of shape but I can't bring myself to get rid of them.


There are so many memories in those two pieces.  As I lay on my bed the other day I  stared at the dresser in my own bedroom.  I could most certainly buy a new one.  One that matches our bed and other furniture but I won't.  At least not for now.  It's funny that it keeps me grounded.  When I pull out the broken drawers I think about momma.  I think of our struggles.  I think of our triumphs and successes.  I think of us.  Because for so many years it was me and her.

Some things in life can never be replaced.  One being the time I had with my sweet momma.  It's funny when you are growing up you never realize the importance of different parts of life that at the time seems so menial.  My momma spent much of her life working to make sure my life was successful.

Because of her sacrifice, hardwork, and example I have been able to provide for my own children.  I pray when I am gone they remember how much they were loved.  Not how much money or presents I gave them.  How cool I was or wasn't.  I pray they know the value of time and memories.  So many kids these days don't and it makes me so sad.

It sounds silly but I see my momma in those pieces of furniture.  I hear her talk about them.  I remember her pride when she brought them home.  I soak it in and smile.

Those memories are far more valuable than any furniture I could buy!

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