They are the only ones who teach me. I am the only one who listens to them. Four loving parents with high expectations and disappointment at the failures of mine. Four who do not shut me out but are here for me. Four different cultures in a two mile radius. From one neighborhood to the next, judgement grows but we brush it off with not even a wince at the words.

Their support is superb. They show love and compassion in their words. They brighten up and they grow happy and grab my body between their comforting arms and smile with the stars with eye dimples and never quit their love. This is how they appreciate.

Let one show anger and disappointment, they’d all get fired up like a pizza oven, each with their Italian burning through. Work, work, work they say when I’m home. They push.

When I am slacking and too lethargic to study still, when I am a scant slacker against so much work, is when I feel disappointed. When there is nothing left to push of  this school year. Four who flourish with support. Four who push me and do not forget to say congratulations.  Four whose only support is to help and help.