When I was a little girl, I was obsessed with Cinderella. And when I say obsessed, I mean absolutely infatuated with it. From the dresses, to the animals, the story line, every aspect of the animated Disney classic.
It’s a little known fact that I would sit in front of the big screen, holding onto whatever teddy bear I was into at that moment in time, with my eyes glued to the screen. The movie would put me into a peaceful trance, up until the evil stepmother locks her into the tower, until I would start screaming as loud as I could.
“‘Wind ’em! ‘Wind ’em! Mommy! Daddy! ‘Wind ’em!” (I meant rewind, but I would later have some speech therapy sessions to fix this little mishap)
I was severely distressed by Cinderella’s misfortune. I tell you this because I think every little girl wants her own fairy godmother, in some form or capacity. Someone who is there with you every step of the way, guiding you and giving you the tools you need to accomplish every dream of yours. Years on, I came to realize that I did have my own fairy godmother: my mom.
She was my cheerleader far before my arrival to this world. She was holding the pom poms into the air when I could barely mutter a sentence, when all I did was eat, sleep, poop, and repeat. She cheered loudly for my success when I was at my highest points, and when I was at my lowest. She stood idly by, waiting in my moments of utter confusion and periods of darkness that persisted as I entered adolescence, those dreaded years when little made sense to me aside from the mundane and routine. Through it all, she held onto the pom poms and memorized the chants even when they seemed to lose their radiance and their reasoning. And I know she’ll hold them till the very end.
Even through the difficult times, I had my own fairy godmother waiting there in the shadows, helping me find my own way through it all. All during that period of time I thought I wanted to play hockey in the Olympics, but gave up on that dream for something else. Through all the muddled messes of senior year and my college years. She was always waiting there, dropping her one liner comments full of love and sarcasm, hoping I would take the hint and the light bulb would illuminate at last. Sometimes it did, other times it went right over my head.
This Mother’s Day, I am extremely grateful for my forever cheerleader. For the woman who showed me that beauty isn’t a size zero, or the make up you put on your face to cover your acne, or the clothes that you throw atop your tired body in the morning. For the person who showed me music that lifted my spirits, movies that inspired me to be something greater, and for my dedicated reader of each and every story I have ever written and probably will ever write. For the one who never gives up, and taught me in the process that I should always strive to reach my hopes and dreams because I can.
Thank you, Mom, for not only being my cheerleader, guide, counselor, friend, and mother, but for being my very own fairy godmother, always shining a light to guide me to the path I need the most. I love you more than words describe.
