The two things I hate worse than spider webs and people that lie is seeing my mother cry.To truly understand my mother I would have to tell you the dimensions in which she is  inticriately composed.Oldest of 23 children,she was raised in an Anglican home and sang in her school choir.Her childhood wasn’t the best.In fact, she later faced immense hardship— the loss of a best-friend,her husband.

     I could tell although she came from a broken home she wanted the opposite for her children.She tries her best when it comes to the difficult pressures of raising three and a half kids.I say three because I don’t wholly include myself.Mostly because I am hardly there and I would like to think I have experienced a lot of growth after I moved to go to school.

   Anyway,it was mid -spring and classes were out, and I had gone home for the week to spent time with my family before the beginning of summer classes.My stay at home was pleasant I did my best to catch up with her and my siblings as well.I was relaxing on the couch and catching up on a movie in the living room I refer to it as the place of gathering.Its the kick it spot we all just kinda just hang around and catch up and whats occuring in each others end of the world. 

   I was watching “Eat, love, Pray” more than halfway through the movie, mom returns from upstairs with a hysteria that has become normal in our household.Something had upsetted her.She began to talk to my youngest brother from upstairs. Soon his  yells began to draw closer to the bottom of the stairs, shortly he was downstairs.

   I could tell my mom was hurt and she felt defeated at this point.As long as I could remember my parents were always willing to make sacrifices for their children.My mom had made alot of sacrifices for my brother she tried to accommodate him and his condition.She spoke to him and really sympathized with him.My youngest brother is book smart but still has alot to learn.He can be a sharp talker at times and inconsiderate at times.They continued their back and forth.All of this had boiled down to my brother’s want to conform.Conform to the pressures of his friends.My mom picked up the phone and dialed the parent of my brother’s friend.

     I didn’t quite remember their argument because I had left at that time I knew it was time form me to pack up and head back to my apartment.My brother was naive and I could not bring myself to believe anything that spurted from his mouth.I say spurted because he reminds me of a garden hose with a leak that size of pin head but although small it effects the water flow and the only way to make the garden hose work again at its full capacity is to apply pressure.When my brother talks he applies pressure that pressure was strong enough to produce tears from my mothers eyes.When I went to tell my mother good-bye I couldn’t help but notice her tear stained face and her bloodshot eyes.I didn’t like to see her cry her tears were the manifestation of pain.