I can’t live without my mom. When I am away from her, visiting my dad,  I don’t feel  like myself. They didn’t have a good marriage and they divorced when I was 7. I lived with my mom, visiting my dad every other weekend and one day out of the week. Even though I saw him and lived with him I still would say I grew up with my mom and her mom. If I needed anything I could ask my mom. I knew that she would help me, I knew she would be there for me. 

Even though my moms work requires a lot of attention, she was my class mom my whole life in elementary school. Never missing a field day or a class trip, bringing in gift bags for when it was a holiday, she did it all. Every Time there was something going on at school I knew I could look up and see her face. I knew she was gonna do my hair pretty, pick out my clothes so everything matched and arrive at my school half an hour early. 

There was this winter concert for the entire 4th grade. I was at my dads house for the week, and my mom had a work trip. My concert was the second to last day of her trip and there was no way of her coming. I was sad, more than sad for the first time ever I was gonna get up on that stage and look up without seeing my mom. I would know she wasn’t there. It put the biggest pit in my stomach. Made me feel sick and small. The car ride there, I couldn’t get myself to smile. Knowing my mom wasn’t gonna be there was the worst. I knew I wouldn’t have a real smile on my face. My heart was creating a hole that every minute kept on getting bigger and bigger. 

I didn’t want to step foot in that school anymore. I just wanted to have my mom. I wanted to have her next to me and give me a hug. Walking up the ramp the walls were coming closer to me. Until I heard a sound of a car beeping and dark brown high heels hitting the ground. It was my mom. She came to my concert. All I could do was run to her, and hug her. My heart was full, there was no more hole. 

Since I grew up in two different houses I never said I have a home, I never felt like I did. I realized a home doesn’t have to be a place, it can be a person. I look back at my life, look back at my memories. My mom is in every single one. The concert, my first tooth, my first 100 on a test, my first everything she is there. My mom is more than a mom to me. She is my home.