A Tribute

I look at my father

and I see stories scrawled in the African dust, a faraway land that holds a legacy I realise I don't quite understand

I watch, as his memories carve out tales in the third world, a world that sparks to life in the childhood stories he shares over the dinner table. Like a film reel, they paint the picture of the life of a young boy who left his home to build a better life

I see, in the wrinkles that line his face and his worn hands, his dedication to the future of his children, a hard-won war to not have to watch them struggle to stand on their own two feet

I learn, the value of education. I learn, that as much as I hate to admit it, he is (almost) always right

and I learn that some debts can never be repaid.

I look at my mother

and I see the strongest woman I know

I am left in awe at her resilience, her ability to endure, her patience and forgiveness that fill an ocean that not even the fiercest of heat could dry out

I feel the warmth of her presence and the cold of her absence

and realise that home is not home unless she is in it

I understand the meaning of sacrifice and the definition of unconditional love

and I know that I will spend the rest of my life aspiring to become even a fraction of the woman she is

I see the mornings in which she rises before the sun, and the nights in which she stays up until the moon fades

tirelessly putting our needs ahead of her own as easily as it is to breathe

and I know why Paradise lies under her feet.

I look at my little brother

and I see that he is not so little anymore

I see a deep-running sense of selflessness and an inability to hold a grudge

and I envy him for it

I see his smart mind and sharp wit and wisdom that goes beyond his years

and I know I'd be lying if I said I didn't look up to him (from time to time)

I learn that being a sister means having the heart of a mother and the tenderness of a friend

and that sibling-ship is one of the greatest gifts in the universe

and that there is no bond in the world quite like it.

I look at myself
and realise how lucky I am to be a culmination of my father's hard work, my mother's sacrifice, and my brother's friendship

I realise that I don't have to look far to find the parts that define, inspire, shape me
I pray that I have inherited my father's dedication
and my mother's compassion
and my brother's ability to only ever see the best in people
and I hope that I do them justice
I look at myself in the mirror and pray that I am a reflection of their best traits

because I sometimes wonder, why, I always had to think hard when asked to whom I look up to

when the answer(s) were right there all along.