A Harsh Winter Night

Mother, I must tell you that most days I just wished to embrace you, to feel that I was safe within your arms even if those same arms were causing me harm.

Most days I wished that your mouth would dance to the words of motherly love yet again they danced the most foul of loves. That kind of love you keep aggressively dancing with back and forth until you fall.

Most days you didn’t catch me but when you did, oh but when you did, I would find that hope to grasp onto for dear life.

Most days I screamed for dear life, crying wondering when I would die. Alone in the darkness we’d cry.

Most days I’d dream away my nightmares, but they’d come back as night terrors. Lying awake I’d watch as the monster would enter our bedroom and, most days you would turn your head as he entered our bedroom. Some days I would wake up and see you as my sun even though most days you were a harsh winter night.

But remember that one day when you took my sister away. I was just 12 on that rainy day. Far, far, away in the sunshine state while we remained in Pine Estates. Mother, I’m sorry I must go. Off to school, I will go and you will never know.

Most days now I hang around, waiting to be found. Days go by then months; we meet once again in the court of law. Four words pierced my heart. My world fell apart.

Yes, I know, I was done yet my heart was still fond. My mothers to come were never-ending versions of you. Building me up and tearing me down. A constant battlefield of extreme emotions. Years went by and I still wondered why? When I finally found you it was as if you were the picture-perfect mother. So there we were, pretending.

Once a week my mouth would run like the Mississippi River, my therapist sitting there diligently listening as I attempted to solve the conundrum. Why was I so desperate for such a hurtful relationship?

On the worst day, you shut us out when our father died. That day I lost not one but both of my parents.

But Mother I must confess that I forgive you. I see that hurt little girl inside, the one screaming out for help for years. I see you. One of twenty-four kids. They didn’t see you. You did the best that you could with what you knew. See no one told you to push your stubbornness aside, no one told you that you’re too prideful, no one told you that your ego would leave you all alone.

Mother, I must confess that on most days I am thankful for you. Because of you, I am the start of healing generational trauma, breaking free from the chains of the past.

Because of you, I am independent, patient, strong, creative, driven, and family-oriented.

Because of you, I know what kind of mother I will be. My children will know what unconditional love feels like. They will never feel like one is loved more than the other or that they must bear the weight of life on their own.

I pray that the rest of your children have healed from the wounds that scarred them and that they too hold a place in their hearts to forgive you.

Mother, I must confess that I wish you nothing but the best and I pray that wherever you may be that life is done taking from you. I pray that you find happiness and peace and are embraced by unconditional love.

Mother, I must confess that despite it all, I still love you.