Her husband left her with two kids and a Honda. She didn’t even have a place to stay. She moved in with her sister. She worked thankless jobs.

And she hardly ever smiled. Not only because she was unhappy, but mostly because she was missing teeth.

“Lost these two teeth in middle school,” she says, touching her mouth. “My dad got in a car wreck. My brother and I were in his passenger seat.”

Teeth or not, the woman is tough. It’s in her blood. She raised three kids single-handed. She fought off rowdy teenage boys who wanted to date her daughter. She taught her sons how to be men.

The day after her youngest left for the military, she marched into a local lender’s office. She only had one hour before work.

“I had good credit,” she said. “I knew they couldn’t turn me down. Never had any debt.”

She could have used the loan money to buy a house. She could’ve invested in dental work. She could’ve replaced her rusted Honda.

She enrolled in community college.

She was a forty-seven-year-old, taking Algebra One. But she was no stranger to hard work. Schoolwork was nothing compared to pulling double shifts and feeding hungry mouths.

“I’ve always been a quick learner.”

She enjoyed each class, each lecture, each teacher, each test. But more than anything, she liked being on campus.

During her first summer semester, she met a woman. The woman had salt-and-pepper hair and wore white scrubs. She took nursing classes. They both talked about life. About their families.

“I looked at her,” she said. “And I was like, ‘Hell, this lady’s my age. If she can be a nurse, so can I.'”

She enrolled in the nursing program. Seven years, she worked. Seven years of math tests, lectures, and clinicals. She completed mountains of homework. She borrowed more money.

“Wouldn’t believe how much education costs,” she said.

She graduated. Her kids were at the ceremony, front row. She wore a cap and gown. She walked across the stage. She took the podium and made a speech. Not to her classmates, but directly to her children.

“I hope you’re proud’a your mama, guys,” she announced. “Because for the first time in your mama’s life, she’s a winner.”

When she finished speaking, she surprised her kids by flashing an open-mouthed smile for the entire audience. Something she hadn’t done since childhood.

Her son remarked, “There’s something different about Mama, can’t put my finger on it.”

“Do you like’em?” said Mama, smiling again. “I got my teeth fixed yesterday.”

Her new teeth are nice, make no mistake. But they aren’t half as lovely as the woman they belong to.