Thank you, Mother

My mother is a casino dealer in Atlantic City--full-time in Caesars and part-time in Borgota, she has to work two jobs because she's a single mom trying to care for a family of four. In addition, did I mention that she's planning to pay for my college all by herself?

My mother is truly amazing, the definition of Mother itself. Since my mother works at a casino she has to endure all the crap those gamblers throw at her! All the yelling and shouting when they lose, "Go back to your country!" or "You're trying to kill me! What the f*ck is with you woman!?"

In addition to those harsh words, my mother also have to inhaled second-hand smoke practically everyday, and since the law for forbidding gamblers to smoke while gambling has been canceled, she has to live through hell and beyond just to get a piece of chip for tips. And that also depends on the mood of the gambler--if they feel like it they'll tip you, if not you've just got to hold you tongue and thank them for playing! What's worse it that, it's not like she can keep the tips--she has to share it with all her fellow co-workers, then of course there is the payment cut...Oh god!

It takes at least 5 to 10 minutes to walk to a cafeteria with no food and flooded with other dealers that are wounded and resentful. It's cruel, just too cruel--she stand there all day, only have 25 minutes to take a break, eat, go to the bathroom, or even have a short conversation with me on the phone. It pains me to think what would happen if I missed her calls--how can she continue working without a voice of support? A family?

However, no matter how angry or painful my mother was, she never seem to show it. She continues to be smiling and gentle--her embraces are warm and welcoming. However, even though she doesn't tell me her pain, I can feel it--I can feel it mother. It's because as soon as you return home and have a bite to eat, you immediately amble to your room, change into your pajamas, and drift off to get your six hours of sleep. You won't wake up until dinner starts, and only rarely you actually sit at the dinner table with us, usually we have to pack you a lunch box to go.

Even though her days are repetitive, she still stand strong and benevolent. In the back of her mind, I can hear her--"I'm doing this for my kids, for their future--so they don't end up like me." So no matter what happens, nor heat, nor rain, nor snow, my mother separates her work and private life. She may be a broken punching bag to others that visits the devil's den, but back home--back to her sanctuary, she's an angel that is even warmer than any sun.

Thank you, Mother