Good Mother
~*Jann Arden

I’ve got money in my pocket
I like the color of my hair
I’ve got a friend who loves me
Got a house, I’ve got a car

I’ve got a good mother
And her voice is what keeps me here
Feet on ground
Heart in hand
Facing forward
Be yourself

I’ve never wanted anything
No i’ve, no i’ve, I’ve never wanted anything
So bad...so bad

Cardboard masks of all the people
I’ve been
Thrown out with all the rusted, tangled
Dented God damned miseries
You could say I’m hard to hold

But if you knew me you’d know
I’ve got a good father
And his strength is what makes me cry

Feet on ground
Heart in hand
Facing forward
Be yourself

I’ve never wanted anything
No i’ve, no i’ve, I’ve never
Wanted anything so bad...So bad

I’ve got money in my pocket
I like the color of my hair
I’ve got a friend who loves me
Got a house, I’ve got a car

I’ve got a good mother
And her voice is what keeps me here
Feet on ground
Heart in hand
Facing forward
Be yourself

Heart in hand
Feet on ground
Facing forward
Be yourself

Just be yourself
Just be yourself

Feet on ground
Heart in hand
Feet on ground
Heart in hand

And so I'm home from a weekend getaway that was far too short. I miss my house, my bed, my blue room, my dog, and my parents.

We got back on Thursday [okay, technically Friday] at 12:20ish. My mom was waiting up for me with the dog, who tried to lick all the hair off of my right arm and kept looking adoringly into my eyes as if to say "you came back! You really came back! I thought you totally abandoned me!".

Then Friday I meant to walk to the library and work on assignments, but that sure didn't happen. Instead I sat and watched daytime television while sifting through a box of photos in search of the perfect one to put into the picture frame I got my dad for his birthday. It was one of those "Dad" frames, with sappy quote at the bottom about fathers being heroes. My father is incredibly sentimental, so I knew he'd love it. I enjoyed the activity, looking through years of events that I don't quite recall except for snippets.

Me at my third birthday party, sitting proudly on the pink tricycle my grandparents gave me...

The Christmas I got my plastic tea set...

Another Christmas where both of Dad's parents were alive, and healthy looking...

Family barbecues...

My brother holding me and smiling in the hospital...

It took awhile to find a picture not only because I kept stopping to look at other photos, but because it seemed difficult to find the right photo.

Neither one of us is looking at the camera...

Oh, Dad's drunk...

My eyes are closed...

Dad's drunk...again...

I'm half cut off...

Dad's drunk...!

But finally I found one, from a barbecue. I'm sitting on my daddy's lap, looking at the camera. He's talking to someone on the other side of the cameraperson, mouth open slightly. But not drunk. Always good.

And as much as my father is proud of me, I'm proud of him. He was an alcoholic for the first 5 years of my life, but he woke up and realized that he had to change this. If that epiphany hadn't of occured, would he still have been a great father? Would my mother have left him? Would I resent him?

But I'm thankful he realized he had a problem, and that he could do something about it. I'm sure memories of his own father helped push him along. He's told me stories of family vacations, with Grandpa stopping at every bar they passed, leaving his wife and kids in the car so he could have his drink.

My mom emailed me earlier and mentioned that he really liked the frame and photo. Apparently he sat and looked at it for a long time, marvelling over how long it probably took me to find the photo.

The hour it took me to find the perfect photo is nothing compared to the time he's taken to make sure that his kids grew up right.