By Estelle Rosse

It’s a long drive from High Point, North Carolina to Mount Jackson,Virginia. I had been experiencing a difficult semester that left me emotionally wrought and needing a mother. My desolation was tangible during that four hour drive, and it left me thinking just how vulnerable humans are, or I suppose I am, that my dull, pulsing pain could be soothed by an embrace and kind words.

Her embrace and kind words.

Upon arriving to the cozy, humble home that seemed to be tucked away from all that could harm me, I stole a glance of myself in the rearview mirror and tried in vain to pinch my cheeks for a somewhat rosy hue and lick my chapped lips. I noticed how my cheekbones almost completely protruded through my pallid skin and how my green eyes seemed to be cobalt as opposed to peridot. Iron deficiency can age you far beyond 20.

I watched her sitting on her front porch exactly how I imagined she would be – with her old Led Zeppelin sweatshirt with the cracked lettering, her brown hair tied into a low ponytail accentuating every beautiful feature of her face and her torn jeans with white paint speckling the dark blue denim. This is Tina Bowman.

This is familiarity.

This is the warm, living, and breathing personification of home.

“Hello, sweet girl.”

As she wraps her arms around my fragile, cold body, I feel her heart against mine, which seemed to pulse new energy and vitality into me. I nuzzle into her neck and feel her artery pulsing quickly against my cheek, her concern for me evident.

There is something so emotionally poignant about a simple hug; there is a palpable honesty that exposes emotions and feelings you did not even know you had.

I try to conceal my face from her because I have a significant issue with my eyes; they convey all that I try in vain to conceal and she can read me like an open book.

With another tight squeeze for confirmation, she tells me what I fear the most, but need to hear.

“Honey, you’ve lost weight. Haven’t you?”

This is no new battle. It is an endless journey I have been taking since I was 15-years-old. All girls boarding school is not for the faint of heart and the cold stares, constant ostracization and low self-esteem still plagues me even in my collegiate years.

To control what my body consumed and the way I looked was the only control I could obtain. When you feel small, you want to look small. Besides, all of the older, pretty girls in my school were doing this too, so I was in good company. Right? It’s not taboo, is it?

I never knew how much I needed her until one lunch period when I was picking at my food. She gently rubbed my arm and genuinely wanted to know if I was alright. As the daughter of an alcoholic and narcissistic mother, I learned never to trust anyone completely.

I trusted her, without any reservations.

We talked for 45 minutes that day as she told me that she was one of the cooks and maintenance workers on campus. She took advantage of the lack of attention and used it as time to check on her girls.

Is she eating? Is she happy today? Does she need me to hold her? Is she safe? Is someone hurting her? She asked these questions about me as others brushed me off as a typical, temperamental teenager.

I then realized that this woman had taken me in as one of her own before I even knew who she was.

She then made it her mission to talk to me every day about problems ranging from my mother spitting vitriol at me through the phone to how to get rid of undereye circles with tea bags.

We grew together.

She supported me through all my trauma and instilled a sense of confidence and self-assurance in me that I never thought I could have. She held me in her arms and kissed my forehead, something my inner-child needed more than anything. She took on my problems as her own and put hers as second to my menstrual cramps, insecurities and girl drama.

Upon leaving the school, she proceeded to build her own business, a charming, old-fashioned bowling alley and restaurant that is the most accurate representation of her I have ever seen in my life. She has grown in confidence and self-assurance in running a business and in motherhood.

She has six children who call her mom. Their names are L’nya, Arianna, Olivia, Alex, Mia and Estelle. We’re hers.

I had always remembered Arianna Soresi as one of the older girls I looked up to. She is smart, kind to everyone and beautiful. Tina saw these attributes in Arianna and made her believe them about herself, like a true mother does.

“Tina is one of the strongest, most loving, and most motherly humans I’ve ever met,” said Soresi. “She has taken me in as one of her ‘kids,’ which is something that will keep me grounded throughout my whole life, no matter what the future has to bring. When I was at one of my lowest points in my life of my sophomore year of high school, I was suffering in silence and Tina noticed the change in me and listened to me with an open heart. Her advice and love have prevented me from inflicting self-harm or from going into a darker mental state. She saved me. She has helped me love life and she is family.”

Mia agrees that without Tina, she would not be here today and for that, she will remain forever grateful for the woman who consistently and unconditionally gave her the world and expected nothing in return.

Upon hearing this, I tearfully smiled as my heart swelled with pride and deep love as I called the woman who saved our lives.

“Mom, I love you.”

“I love you too, honey. Not sure where all of this is coming from. It’s sweet though. Is everything okay?”

Never will this woman know how much she healed all of us with her empathy and patience. Never will she know that she has healed the scared little girl who just wanted her mother to hug her and tell her she was doing a good job. Never will she let us go.

Tina Bowman is a mother.

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Estelle Rosse is a senior at High Point University with a major in journalism. 

Estelle Rosse is a senior at High Point University majoring in Journalism. For contact inquiries, please email erosse@highpoint.edu.