To My Mother: Things long unsaid.

Hey Mom, I've never told you this before...

* Smiles* There's a lot I haven't told you before despite our closeness. . I remember telling my friends of our close relationship and how they'd gush and say I was lucky to be living every African teenage girl's dream. In a way, I was. But this closeness had a small tick. I'd see and hear so much that'd put my young heart in unending turmoil. Parents usually try to shield their children from these things, but I was your best friend, and you had no one else to talk to. I'll start small though because writing this is making me such an emotional mess.

Anyway, I fell in love with Mark. Yep. Cousin M. I remember you being worried about how close he and I were becoming. He was the first boy in my life, so I guess it was to be expected. We rarely saw each other due to all the family issues he was having. So when we finally got to talk to each other, he was a breath of fresh air. He was popular, and I was not. I was a dweeb, so it felt good to have a popular cousin as it gave me some form of acknowledgement. I was innocent and quiet and the only good thing left in this world for him. He'd write letters to me in school and tell me how much he missed me. So it only made sense that he was the first person I'd call when things started to fall apart with you and dad. He made me start writing. All my first poems were about him. My friends thought I was crazy. But they couldn't understand. I didn't think you would either, so I never said anything.

But that fizzled out. With no casualty, thankfully. Mostly because I felt guilty; I had no control over my feelings. It's the way life goes, I guess. You tend to fall in love with those who understand you when you have no words to speak. In 2017, I realized that there was no saving your marriage or us. We officially belonged to the category of children that came from broken homes. I saw dad hit you for the first time. I remember the screams. " Mostly mine. ''Don't hit her," I said. I do not remember where the courage came from. Now that I think of it, it wasn't courage. It was anger. I had been angry for a long time. From the day you slapped me because of him. To the days you made me apologize when he acted violently. Like it was somehow my fault. I was angry because you couldn't see that there was no changing him. That as imperfect as we were, we were victims. My pain was that of a best friend who couldn't do anything to get her friend out of a toxic situation. I was weak too.

You ended up in the hospital that day. The first of many related visits. I wonder if you ever regret it now that what you were trying so hard to save has gone to dust. Back to my anger...

It terrifies me sometimes. Swirls in my heart like a dark cloud. I seem so sweet and happy. But there are days I wake up, and my hands shake, and I'm crying uncontrollably, and I can't even say why. I'm scared the darkness will consume me. I often think I'm okay, but maybe I'm not.

You always preached abstinence. I don't think I ever intended to stay that way. Knowing how unadventurous I was, you thought I might have been pressured into having sex. I planned it. I always knew who my first time would be with. You were disappointed when you found out and I didn't hear the last of it for a while. You'd only been away for a few months then. Why did I do it? I loved him, I think. Then you asked how I'd found the courage to believe in love. Love had failed you and your sisters. According to you, all I had seen were tears and broken homes. How could I love?

I love. But I'm too messed up to not mess it up. There are days when we talk and you ask if I'm okay or if Daniel my boyfriend is being a jerk. On those days, I do not have the words to explain the war that goes on in my head.

'' He loves me, he loves me not." Like that scene with Ariel plucking flowers in The Little Mermaid. I'm needy. I'm unsure, I'm afraid that it'll all turn sour no matter how hard I try. I see a lot of myself in you. How do I tell you that my biggest fear is ending up like you and dad? Or that my greatest goal is to make my marriage work because y'all seemed to get everything else but that right? When I was much younger, you two used to be my ideal couple but I don't have that anymore.

I know you give me those words of advice with the best of intentions but a lot of the time, they do nothing to calm my fears. I only leave those conversations more confused than I come. I wish my life was a little more regular. I wish I could be my age and not worry about these things. I wish this was a letter about stolen kisses under the stairs or adventures after bedtime. But if it was, it wouldn't be my letter.

You might never get to see this but now that I'm much older, in some way, I understand your sacrifice and I admire your courage. For those moments of weakness and indecision, I forgive you. You are my mother. But you are a woman. I know what that feels like. I know you loved Dad. But you found the courage to walk away. Eventually. Your best friend is proud of you. We don't talk like we used to. I hear it comes with growth. But I hope you know I love you, always.

I did take a few sips of your wine that one time. I don't think you noticed, and I took your packet of tampons and shared them with my friends in school. You thought we had probably thrown them away while moving stuff around the house. And I might not use condoms all the times I say I do.

With Love,

Sue.