The date was February 7th, 2020. We were getting inside of my mother’s white Kia to go to the Humane Society to adopt either one or two cats. We knew exactly what we were looking for. An orange male tabby cat because my mother and I heard those were the nicest kinds.  And a black cat because my mother had always reminded me of one. Independent, aware of their surroundings, and willing to do anything for the ones they love. As we were on our way, we were coming up with good names for the cats.  
My brother felt that the name “Falcon” would be a good name for one of the cats, but I disagreed. I really liked the name “Munny.” 
  “Oh, come on,” my brother rolled his eyes at me,  
“Munny? That’s like the worst name ever!”  
“Okay well, Falcon isn’t even all that!” I tried to change his mind. 
 “Both are super adorable,” my mother broke up the argument,  
“Why don’t we do both?” 
 I sighed, but then I agreed with her, as well did my brother. A smile was painted on all of our faces; my mother always knows how to solve problems. 
She usually wears red. She claims it suits her best, but really all colors look great on her. She believes that dark colored lipstick and dark colored nails make your wrinkles stand out. Which is the reason why you’ll never catch her with anything other than coffin-shaped sparkly nude acrylic nails. She keeps her short bob up in clips because she doesn’t like her bangs touching her face. And her makeup is always flawlessly done. You can say I’m a replica of her.  
Her skin is an olive-tan shade, and light brunette hair to match with it. She always wears high heels, which is probably why everybody thinks she is taller than she actually is. I had always thought she was around 5’7; especially because her mom is 5’8. But no, my mom is short. She’s 5’4 and is constantly having to be on her tippy toes to reach things placed above her.  
 She has silly sayings that she says all the time. Before every story she tells, she begins with saying the words, “you’re gunna laugh.” She’s a southern girl. Born and raised in the south. She grew up in Georgia, but lived in Alabama for a while, where I was born. Which is the reason why she says “ain’t” and “y’all.”   Every now and then, you’ll hear her southern accent. She loves sweat tea and coke zero. I mean, everyone loved sweat tea back in Bama’.  
I believe that my mother is a 5-year-old little girl inside of a 52-year- old grown woman’s body. Sometimes, I mean all the time, she’ll bust a move out of nowhere. She’ll start dancing, no matter where she is, no matter what time it is, and no matter what song is playing. When you’re with her, there’s no such thing as getting embarrassed. She’s the life of a party, she always knows how to start fun. There is simply no such thing as daring my mom. She’ll do whatever, there is just no point. You dare her to go up to a random person and do the macarena? She’s already doing that. You cannot be bored with her around. 
 My number one best friend is my mom and I’m not embarrassed to say it. I tell her everything, mainly because I trust that she won’t tell anyone and because she gives great advice. I always have difficulties trusting others, but never with my mom. Now, don’t think I favor my mom over my dad. I love them both equally. However, my mom understands things better because she’s a girl who has been through and experienced the same exact things as me.  
“This is the one!” The orange fur was all over me, but I didn’t care. He was adorable, and the perfect addition to our family. I needed this cat, 
 “The name ‘Munny’ would suit this cat.” I smirked at my brother,  
“What’s his name?” 
 The worker looked at the cat’s papers and responded with “OJ, his name is OJ.” 
 The bright light on the ceiling reflected off my definitely not white smile,  
“Forget ‘Munny’, OJ is perfect!” Surprisingly enough my brother agreed we keep the name.  
“Hello, OJ.” My brother said in awe to the cat while rubbing his ear. 
 “Where’s mom?” I looked around but she was nowhere in sight.  
“Found her,” my brother said while staring directly ahead of him. 
 My mom was playing with 3 different cats in the room ahead of us. My brother and I started laughing. My mom is obsessed with cats. 
People mistake my mom 20 years younger than she actually is. People think she’s in her 30s, but she is actually in her 50s. And that makes me glad. Knowing I’ll most likely have young skin like her when I’m older. I aspire to be like my mom. Charismatic, care-free, independent, and fun. When I’m at an event, and we’re bored, we give my mom a call to come over. However, she doesn’t like shopping. She will do anything but go to the mall. Unlike most girls, my mom doesn’t like walking around the mall, unsure of what you are going to purchase. She loves getting nails done, doing makeup and hair on others, but despises the mall. She only likes shopping if she knows what she needs to get. 
My mother is the most fun and caring person I have ever met. She has created so many amazing memories for me. She’s the one who had 6 kids and doesn’t look a day over 40. She’s the one who makes me smile every day. She’s the woman who started it all.