An Ode to the Village That Raised Me
Honoring the women who shaped me
They say it takes a village.
As for my working mother, that couldn’t be more true.
And for a little girl, there is nothing more valuable than being surrounded by a diverse group of women who teach you that when faced with a choice, choose love.
Every single time, no matter how difficult, choose love.
My mother would get up before the sun to make sure I got to daycare, and she would go to bed after the sun to ensure that despite being an engineer at a full-time job, I knew she had time for me once work was done.
A reminder that she was never too tired for me.
Now, as I am nearing 20, I can see just how many sacrifices she wordlessly made so that at no point would I ever doubt that I was cared for.
In truth, I doubt that she would even call these decisions sacrifices. Rather, just the choice to love me.
In between the morning and night, I spent my time at daycare. It was a small place, run tirelessly by a group of women ranging from younger adults to those nearing retirement age.
I don’t have many specific memories from that early in my life, but one thing I do remember is the immense feeling of being taken care of.
The warmth that comes from people who want nothing but the best for you, not because you need it, nor because you demanded it, but just because they wanted the best for me when I was too young to know what that was on my own.
I still know what it means to feel special because of those women, who would go as far as making me breakfast after I was dropped off.
I can imagine how much of a weight that lifted off of my mother’s already tired shoulders.
Not only was I shown care and appreciation from these people, but I also watched and learned.
Each holiday, and sometimes spontaneously, my mom would bring the daycare women a homemade taco dip that came in an aluminum foil pan as a way of showing her gratitude.
Just as much as I knew I was taken care of by my village, I watched it take care of one another, too.
The last people I visited before graduating high school were the ladies there, with that same taco dip.
I could finally make it for them myself this time.
As I grew up, my village grew too. It became my hairdresser, my sixth-grade math teacher, the entire circle of faculty who helped me survive elementary school, and so many others who would help me up when I had fallen.
Never asking for a thing in return beyond a hug when I see them next.
Now, I chase my dreams to honor each one of them.
I work hard because I wouldn’t be on this path if not for them.
I choose love, and always will, because of them.
