love, Mathew's daughter

My father's high school English teacher once told him he would not amount to anything. 

She asked him why he thought he should even attend her class. I'm sure he did something to the effect of shrugging his shoulders, he's not the kind of man to pick a fight that isn't worth fighting. 

But if given the opportunity, I'd stand in front of her & defend everything he is as easily as I breathe. I'd look her straight in the eye & ask her who she thinks she is. 

Who my father is & who he would become. 

if she really knew him, & if she really knew herself, she'd see how ridiculous those words must've sounded shooting from her mouth. 

If she saw the man I know, & the footsteps I've walked in. If she could hear the cheers of encouragement, and feel the way I do when he's held my hand when I'm not strong enough alone. If she could see the work he does for the family under the roof he keeps. If she could see the love in his eyes for my mama. If she could see the boy in his heart that has never given up. If she could see the Mathew I know,

then, she would believe that the day she told my father, the man that would come to raise sons & daughters to see a world of endless potential that he would amount to so little, 

was surely the day she turned mad. 

and if she could still look in his eyes of blue & say those same words, 

well I would just have to turn the other cheek & get on with living my life. 

Because that is how my father raised me. 

& That, miss, is what he has amounted to.