Forgotten

. . .

I’ve always been that person who can get along with just about anyone.

With wisdom and comforting words, I travel through this life, sharing these words with everyone I meet.

I develop crushes quickly, and I never get over them.

Not completely.

I am a clingy friend, grasping ahold of coattails and holding on for dear life.

Afraid to show just how much I care.

More afraid not to.

But I’m also that one person who will spend the pennies I don’t have on a gift just to make you know you’re loved.

I’ll stay up until dawn baking a cake just so you know you’re thought well of.

I’ve been called “mama” by many, and I am always the one who will hold you while you cry through your heartache, your grief, and your nights of fury.

I’ll make you cookies, lasagna, and the best coffee you’ve ever had.

I’ll teach you everything I know, hold your hand through the worst and best moments you’ll have, and walk through fire if it spares you a touch of pain.

There’s never been a day that you wondered if I loved you.

Because I made it a point each and every day to let you know your value — to show you just how wonderful you are, even if it makes me seem crazy and clingy.

I have hundreds of numbers in my phone, emails, addresses, and profiles, too.

Still, I walk through this life alone.

I’m the first one you told when you fell in love.

Always observing, all seeing, and insightful to a fault, I was the first one to put the pieces together.

I gave you a knowing smile and a soft nod, and you confessed with happy tears to me alone.

“Don’t say a word,” you pleaded, and I, of course, was faithful.

I was the one you came to in the middle of the night when you wondered if your love was returned.

I was there to reassure you when you wondered if your vows of love would be returned.

There wasn’t a moment in the day I didn’t give my all to you.

And though I wasn’t invited to the big day that I’d helped you plan, I bought you the most thoughtful gift you could’ve imagined.

Your two hands entwined with rings catching the falling sun’s soft rays on a ten-by-ten canvas.

Not a word or card did I receive in return.

Still, I was there the next day when you came back to work.

Each day, one after the other, I was there for you.

Like a rock, I stood strong for you, ever present, ever supportive.

You leaned on me for support so many times.

Yet invisible I remain.

Forgotten and forsaken.

Fading into the background quicker than the homeless man on the corner whose outstretched hand you fill with coins.

. . .

Did I not stretch my arm out to you?

Did I not share all my wisdom with you?

Did I not help you become the best baristas you could be?

Even more so, did I not help you become the best person you could be?

Did I not help you learn to walk through each day so that you could still look at yourself in the mirror at night?

I gave you everything I had, each second of every day.

Never once did I so much as silence my phone or reject your call.

I was dedicated —

Heartbroken and devastated.

By all of you I mentored and mothered throughout the years.

I laid my job on the line for you, my livelihood and life along with it.

Not so much as a thank you card, a flower, or a nod of recognition.

You go on without me as my world falls apart.

You go on to great careers, great marriages, adventures and more.

I see the wisdom I once shared with you in your posts with your name attached, and the comments that flood in speaking of your insight, your beauty.

I see the lessons I once taught you in your life decisions, and I see the affect of a piece of guidance I once shared with you, so glad you listened, wishing you’d remembered the source.

Your latte art you make a living with — was I not the one who first inspired your passion?

Your wife you have a child with — was I not the one there at three am, holding your hand through the fear and frustrations?

Your newfound career — was I not the one who supplied the recommendation?

Still, here I stand —

Alone again.

Not even a thought in your backward glances.

Hundreds of you.

So many people I’ve been there for over the years.

“Mama” to so many. Special to so few.

I’m clingy and develop crushes easily.

Always afraid to show just how much I care.

But more afraid not to.

I never forget them — their name, their face.

Everyone I’ve met, and everyone I’ve known is burned into my heart and memory.

And here my heart forever lies —

Broken into pieces

and lying on the ground —

Forgotten and forsaken.

. . .

© Lena Folkert 2022, All Rights Reserved

Previously Published on Medium

. . .

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