Superwoman

Written for a writing challenge based on the song below.

"Mommy?" she asked in her usual thoughtful voice.

"Yes" her mother answered.

"I made something for you. Do ya' wanna see it?"

Her mother looked up from her task at hand to see her seven year old daughter wearing a smile that could illuminate the evening sky. She observed her as she danced a happy dance, holding whatever she had made behind her little back.

She smiled at the very excited child before her. "Well of course I want to see it. Is it something you made all on your own?"

"Yep" she said, beaming with pride. "Well Sissy helped with the spelling, but the rest was all from me! Something special, just for you."

"But, it isn't my birthday" she said "Or Mother's Day, or Christmas."

"Nope!" her child declared.

"Hmmm, then to what do I owe the pleasure of a gift on this...a regular day?" she pondered aloud.

"Here mommy! Just for you. I wrote it myself. Nobody helped with the words." The child handed her mother a piece of paper, the kind you use to in a computer printer. It was folded in half and presented like a greeting card. On the front was a drawing. A woman, near as she could tell, wearing a red cape and an "S" emblazoned across the front of (what looked to be) her costume.

"Well who is this?" she asked the little girl.

"It's you, mommy!" she responded with all the giddiness a seven year old child could muster.

"But, my name doesn't begin with an 'S', does it?" her mother continued.

The little girl laughed at how silly she thought her mother was for not being able to guess what the 'S' stood for. "It is 'S' for Superwoman! Go on. Open it!" the giggles continued.

So, her mother opened the card and inside she found some writing. It did not take long for her to scan the lines and see just what her daughter was trying to convey. As she looked upon her daughter's words, she felt the mist of tears beginning to form in her tired, hazel eyes.

"This" she managed "is the very bestest card that I have ever seen, and you are the bestest girl in the whole wide world!"

With that said, hugs were exchanged and the little girl was off to do something new. Making sure her child was engaged in another activity, the woman opened the card once more. She wanted to take in every word but knew she would cry as she did, so she waited until her child was otherwise occupied.

As her little girl's words formed upon her trembling lips, her life's reality bounced around in her head. In the faintest of whispers, and with a gentle tear rolling down her cheek, she began...

My mommy is the best.
She is like a super hero.

(I don't feel much like a super hero)

My mommy bakes homemade peanut butter cookies.
They are yummier and better than the kind in the store.

(Oh sweetie, peanut butter is cheap. If it wasn't for peanut butter, there would be no cookies)

My mommy takes us for walks almost everywhere.
To the park. To the library.
They are long walks but she never complains.

(If I could afford the gas, I would take you to so many more places)

My mommy makes us spaghetti.
She never says no because she knows I love it!

(Thank goodness you love it, because sometimes it is all we have)

My mommy helps me make presents when my friends have birthdays.
We even wrap them in the funnies! She is fun.

(I cringe every time I see a birthday party invitation, but I do my best)

My mommy does the wash very early in the morning.
That way she can play with me.

(Electricity is least expensive in the morning. It isn't easy staying ahead of the bill)

My mommy is the best mommy.
She takes care of all of us and she never gets tired.

(I would be sleeping right NOW if I could be, but the house doesn't run itself)

I think my mommy must be Superwoman!

(I think my child sees just what I want her to see)

Not entirely sure that she deserved such praise, she was thankful that her present situation has gone unnoticed in the eyes of her observant child. For all the struggling, she imagined that this was a bit of evidence that, although she was not super hero, she was doing a little better than alright.

©Truly Ross-Wisehart