Friday, April 17, 2020

Memory of Mother

Saturday May 9th, 2015

Spent some time with Nicole, Ella and Big little CJ (Christian) this afternoon. I took them to Van Wagner’s beach in Stoney Creek where we spent some good time, walking on the sand, skipping stones, photographing birds and each other, taking selfies then off to the ice cream parlor for some black cherry, chocolate and cookies ice cream.

I packed some blankets and healthy snacks but never got around to it because—we all wanted ice cream!

This little outing drained me, but I drummed-up enough strength to go for a 5-mile walk to Bayfront. I purposely left my camera at home. Took a shower when I got back and convinced Sean to take me to Ola Bakery downstairs for an Americano and something sweet. I didn’t have time for coffee this morning and I feel a little sluggish and a bit of a headache.

Taking a 20-minute nap was my plan when we got back to the apartment. Immediately after I laid in bed, something shifted. Memories of my mother came pouring in—so were my tears. I long to be embraced by Mother. I long to have a conversation with her—feel her close to me—touch her beautiful skin—inhale her scent and tell her how much I miss and love her. Even as I write this piece, my tears flow—unstoppable.  The lump in my throat won’t go away. I wallow in her memories, and the feeling of emptiness remain.

Suddenly, I was being pulled out of bed by some unexplainable energy. Grabbed my purse and keys—ready to be led by this energy—a visit to the cemetery! Unfortunately, Sean had made plans with his long time friends. He noticed my tears. I tell him why. Although he was willing to let me have the car, I wasn’t about to spoil his plans with friends of whom he rarely spend time with. Tomorrow, on Mother’s Day, I’ll make the drive. My energy was on overdrive—this poem is the result of that creative energy wanting to be expressed.

Memory of Mother on Mother’s Day

she knew he would be home soon
from where, she had a good idea—
all day and into the evening
she’s been reaching into
a hiding spot inside the rice bin
where she stashed her bottle
of whiskey—taking swigs
as if an elixir that would
wash away the feeling—
the pain—anxiety—the fear
of what might come
when he gets home—
tired and drunk

or is it what comes after
that she tries to numb
that if she took swigs after swigs
of whiskey, she will
develop thick skin

his words whip like barbed wire
his hands quick to throw slaps—
punches and hair pulling—
she begs him to stop
but he doesn’t hear her
he whips, he grabs, he slaps
until she’s down
on the ground

a little girl cowers in the
corner of one room—helpless
hands clasp to both ears
she breathes—deeply
whispers to no one in particular
she promises to be good—
be different—
to her own children 
when she’s grown up
                just make this go away

she’s the little girl
     who wanted to be good
the perfect little girl
     who was favored
the little girl who sang
to her daddy     during school recesses
the little girl who pulled her daddy’s
whiskers until he fell asleep
          he was mellow—

she’s the little girl
who wanted to please everybody
the little girl 
who bears the weight
of the whole world

she’s grown up now
but still remembers—
she’s stronger—
she’s not perfect
but there's one thing she has—
                     her Self!

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