Velma

If I could pick one person in my life besides my mother whom I believe to be a great influence on me it would be my Aunt Velma. As a child she cared for me as if one of her own. One of the advantages of this was that she was not that much older than me. Yes she was alive when the first man walked on the moon, but not much older. I spent many nights sleeping in her house, and eating her food, so much so I regard her children as siblings. I was taught a little about cars from Uncle Peter, and played endless games with my three cousins. Much more than this she was a maternal figure in my life that provided me with advice and comfort. There was and is always a door open at her house. She is gentle yet bold at the same time. This characteristic is what I admire most. She could be asked to leave a local convenient store for making a rude remark to the cashier, yet give a homeless person money in the parking lot of that same store as security escorted her out. This is Velma. A woman who along with her husband raised three kids while working full time. A woman who mastered the art multitasking. She could cook an enchilada dinner from scratch on the same day as she stained her wood floors by herself. Much more than this she could love her children unconditionally and her nephew at the same time. This duel love is what I live with, the love I have for her and my mothe is one in the same. This person whom I am privledged to know is one of many who shaped my life. She cries when I cry and laughs when I laugh. As sappy or sugary as all this may sound the fact is it is the truth, and I am lucky that this thruth is sappy.