by Kerine Mark

Created on: October 19, 2009   Last Updated: November 10, 2009

The aroma of baked bread fresh from the oven arouses me from my evening nap. The sound of running water can be heard from the back of our wooded house. Looking through the window I noticed my mother bent over the concrete sink which is loaded with household laundry. It is dark outside but she is determined to complete the back breaking task of hand washing. My father lays asleep, his arms folded beneath his handsome face; Ignorant of the fact that his wife needs his assistance.

That was the norm in my household growing up, it was my father's belief that a woman's role was as mother, wife and household maid. I thought otherwise.

As a child my ideas of parents were that they were complex and diverse individuals, so completely opposite sometimes; there are those that only implanted their seed and reproduced but walked away from the responsibilities of parenthood. For others their parenting abilities may not be perfect (for there is nothing as perfect parenting), however they strive for the well being of their children.

My parents have been married for over thirty two years. I could never understand why they choose to stay together, why my mom put up with my dad's constant infidelity, his mean spiritedness and the way he was so inconsiderate of her feelings. They both worked eight hour shifts everyday; however it was my mom that slaved when she got home on evenings. My dad, never lifting a finger to help her; and although I love the both of them, it was my mother that I admired the most. She was Superwoman, a woman of remarkable strength and beauty, not physically, although she was very pretty. But she had an inner grace and peace that radiated from the inside out.

Written in my mind was the way she held it together when my brother laid in a hospital bed and the doctors said that he would not make it, when my eldest brother was imprisoned for stabbing his cousin or when my sister didn't come home one night, from a school party. She carried so many problems on her shoulders, never voicing complaints, but calling on god everyday to help her through.

My father made sure that all the household expenses were always taken care of. He would put candies in our room, unnoticed by my mother, or would buy us gifts on his way from work. He was a remarkable father to his children. However to me being a good father also meant being a good husband, giving your wife the respect, love and support that are ever so needed in her life.

Having my own family I have come to realize that the job of parents are never easy, to provide for their children, nurturing them and loving them unconditionally and instilling proper morale values to last a lifetime, is hard work. Sacrifices have to be made and the rewards are sometimes small but are worth every effort.

My parents are still together, and although my dad has not changed throughout the years. I appreciate having them both in my life, and growing up with the secured feeling that they were always there for our family; showering their children with love.

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