My mother decided not to fight with the Earth anymore
While she wanted zucchini she let the blueberries grow.
She parked her little trailer by the trees and closed the door
I guess my mother decided not to fight with anyone anymore.
"Just what I needed" she proclaimed as she showed me around
her little trailer in the woods, wheels already sinking in the ground
A sink, a table, two coffee cups, a bed
and almost enough room to stand without hitting your head
on a three acre plot with a five bedroom home...
My mother decided not to fight with that house anymore.
"No shoes allowed," if one of the two rules of the trailer
Because my mother decided she's not gonna sweep anymore
She left home with her baby and boyfriend
in a school bus I wouldn't doubt he stole.
(My mother decided she wasn't gonna fight with her mother anymore.)
And when that wasn't working, she went off on her own.
Her son was the only man she'd fight for.
She married my father because;
"he just wouldn't leave me alone."
My mother decided not to fight it anymore
She fought for her house, her kids and she swore
she'd fight to the death if someone tried to take that from her.
Fought she did, fiercely or quietly
she did what she needed to.
How did my mother always know what to do?
One night we snuck out in the darkness
we left home for somewhere new.
She dressed us up in dresses and we drove and we drove
My mother decided we weren't going to church anymore.
We'd go to prison to see my father even though she was told
if we didn't we'd have a beach house in Jersey, everything paid for.
Because of her I know my father and love him unconditionally
Maybe my mother decided she wasn't going to keep that from me.
Because of her I know my siblings, doesn't sound like a choice
But my mother decided no one was going to separate us.
My mother decided not to fight with the Earth anymore.
She let's the weeds grow taller in the front yard, it doesn't bother her.
She'll pull them out by the roots when they're ready to go.
My mother knows what's worth fighting and fighting for.
Come with me on another long journey. This one spanning decades.