I’m different. Well, not exactly. A lot of people are like me. There are many people who aren’t, though. I have two moms and two dads. In other words, I have a huge family. So, when we were assigned this essay, I was stuck in thought because I didn’t know who to do. I have many people who mean a lot to me. I love my step dad because he makes me laugh. I love my birth mom because she is very cool. I love my birth dad because he makes me tough. I love my step mom because she loves me.
Then, I was thinking; it is an amazing feeling to know that someone loves you. That’s when I decided to pick my step mom to write about, but I was stumped again because I didn’t know what experience to write about. The problem with picking my step-mom was that the memories are little, but they stretch on and on. There isn’t a specific one that helps explain why she means so much to me. Could I write about when she helped me with pink eye? What about moments that show what a nerd she is? Or when she helped me through my dog’s death? What about all the times she let me vent to her about sports and drama at school? Even though my step-mom doesn’t make me tough, she still appears at every one of my sporting events and roots me on. So, I was stuck.
Then, one day in cheerleading practice I had a tough time. It was on Tuesday, October 3rd. The team was practicing in the stinky auxiliary gym with little red fold-up mats that slid across the gym floor. Unfortunately, since cheerleaders kind of get the shaft, that’s all we had. We were practicing new stunts so our routine would improve and be more difficult. I’m the flyer, which means my bases throw me up into the air. That day I was practicing extension cradles. When I cradled, my back base did not catch me, so it resulted in me landing on my primary base’s knee with only my back. My head then hit the ground. The wind was knocked out of me, and I was in extreme pain. That night when I went home from cheerleading I was crabby, frustrated, and hurt. As soon as I walked into the door, my step-mom sensed that something was wrong.
“What’s the matter, honey?” she asked.
“Cheerleading!” I said a little too loudly. Then, before I knew it I was spilling everything to my step-mom, which included my pain, my frustration, and my anger. She sat and listened patiently and didn’t make any interruptions.
“It’s all right. Don’t worry about it. I’ll go get you some ice.” She told me while she walked into the kitchen.
After she tried to give me ice, she comforted me and made me relax.
I realize that this moment seems pretty lame. Why would I pick someone to be that important over me because of an experience like this? I know it was an insignificant memory, but to me it shows how caring my mom is. There are a million memories just like this one that show what a great person she is. She is funny, loving, and patient. She is always taking care of me even though she doesn’t have to. When I was one, she never had to come take care of me. She’s always been there and that means the world to me. My step-mom is most important, because I know that she will always love me no matter what happens, and that’s a great feeling to have.