My Mazy: an exceptional woman. I know few as resilient as she. I know even fewer who have faced life’s curveballs and managed to remain such a marshmallow – soft and sweet. But like all marshmallows, even better with a bit of heat. Her grace is matched with grit and passion. A fine-tuned balance that appears so effortless.
My mom is a warrior, raising three daughters as a single parent. One said daughter, which may or may not be me, being particularly “complicated.” I know first hand what taking your mom for granted entails, and as a wayward teenager, fought my mom at every step of the way.
Slightly older, somewhat wiser, and living a whole lot further away has left me in awe of my mom, everything she has overcome, and everything she continues to embody. I am rocked with a sense of admiration and appreciation that grows at every point in becoming less girl and more woman.
I’m the product of a matriarchy. A tight-knit family captained by sensational women. The Simpson girls – that’s us. Four females taking the world head-on. Wait, four plus one.
My grandmother. Easily the most brilliant human being I know. My greatest role model. From “plaas meisie” to business owner to mother to grandmother and then back to mother again. The world knows nothing of selflessness. The world hasn’t met my Granny.
I look at my childhood, my current young womanhood, and feel grateful to have grown up in a single-parent household. A shift in perspective, so to speak: the absence of a father? No. The blessing of a powerful matriarchy. One where my mother, grandmother, and sisters all played a part in moulding the person that I am today. How lucky am I?
So, here’s to lessons taught, lessons learned, and an indescribable bond that transcends the simplicity of words. Happy Mother’s Day to the women that raised me.