I made it, Mama.
I’m happy. I’m good.
If I don't say that all the time, I certainly should.
Especially to you. Because it's clearer each day
You're the reason it's true. You raised me this way.

“I’m listening, Jessica,” you always said. And you were.
Bad dreams. School. Wild plans. What a blur…
But the words you returned, they follow me still,
Your actions inspired me – and they always will.
I made it, Mama, because you made sure I would.
My childhood guides me. Yeah, Mama. You’re good.
Want some stories that prove it? Let's do it then!
But first, let’s pretend…

We’re both there once again.
Remember these days? I know I do.
My world was so huge. Its heroes were too.
And it takes heroes, Mama,
To show how I saw you…

Despite the unknown worlds all our decisions bring,
You always made sure I knew, Mama, to do the right thing.
And your powers persisted – past the pressures of peers,
Even defeating the follies of my oft deafened ears.

I feel drawn to the justice every good action does.
No one watching? No matter. Though with you, Mama, I was.
Through daily distractions and the “I’m fine” disguises,
You defended or rescued those of all shapes and sizes.

Have a big heart and the world will make way for you.
It’s true – I’ve seen it – when I answer:
What would Mama do?