Weekend Rewind-Rediscovered Riches

Vocal moves at the speed of light. In a whirlwind of submit, hearts and comments, the enthusiasm quickly wanes as publications move onwards through the conveyor belt of creation. The new overshadows the old. This is the way of the world but, as a result, our words are buried, forgotten or are never even given the daylight they deserve. Treasures missed, gems left in the history of the ever scrolling feed.

But nestled within the archives of this articulate Aladdin's cave there are diamonds cut and shimmering with the profoundity of insight and beauty, waiting to be revisited, rediscovered and found..

Our "Weekend Rewind" aims to be something of a time machine, transporting you backwards and shining a metaphorical candle on creators and creations that you may have missed as life, love and the universe took centre stage. We offer a gentle reminder of the timeless nature of truly impactful writing.

This weeks hidden gem comes from KJ Aartila

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Reflections of a Mother: Blood Runs

The mirror showed a reflection that wasn't my own.

I think it was my mom, although I hadn’t seen her in years, I think last time we connected face-to-face, she was the age I am now. I swore to never become like her, yet, there she was, reflected in the mirror.

After my dad died several years before, Mom became insufferable. When she moved to a smaller home, she passed the heirloom down to me, intended to go to Jadyn next, as my daughter was the oldest female next in line. The mirror had been in our family for generations, beginning with my own Great-great Grandmother. It now hung on my bedroom wall.

I vowed to take all steps to be as loving and supportive of my own husband and daughter as my Mother had been harsh, controlling and disconnected in her own relationships.

I turned away from the mirror, shaking my head in disgust. I looked back up and stuck my tongue out at the reflection. She was my mom, but she couldn’t really see me now. No, I didn’t want to see this person. Regardless, I could still feel her damaged heart beating in my chest.

Putting a hand to my fast-beating heart, I took a deep breath as I flipped the light switch off, walking through the door of the master bedroom to join my husband in the livingroom, setting up a movie for us to watch. Our young daughter was playing in her bedroom, waiting to be tucked in. I gave my husband a peck on the cheek.

“Be right back! I’ll go put Jadyn to bed.”

“Okay, Dear. I’ll make us some popcorn.”

“Good. Remember I don’t like butter on mine!” I reiterated as I left the room. Where had that come from? I thought to myself. In the twelve years we had been together, he never buttered the popcorn. I shook my head at myself as I walked into our daughter’s room.

“Look at this mess!” I shouted. “What have you been doing in here?!”

Immediately, Jadyn’s big eyes filled with tears as she recoiled on the floor, clutching her favorite stuffed animal.

My own words and tone struck me. I immediately swooped down, grabbing Jadyn in a hug. “I’m so sorry, Babygirl! You’ve done nothing wrong! It’s fine. I love you!”

What’s wrong with me? I thought to myself, horrified at my behavior. It had sounded just like my mom’s voice and words! Oh. My. God. I hugged my daughter tighter.

“Okay. Let’s get you into bed.” I smiled, trying to brush my harsh reaction from both our minds.”Which story would you like?”

I read her favorite bedtime story, then gently kissed my sleeping angel on the forehead. I could feel the lump of emotion rise in my throat as I looked down at her. Warm, sticky fluid started running from my eyes, dripping onto the tender forehead of my daughter. I quickly wiped them from her precious face and left the room. I hurried into the bathroom to wash my face. Peering into the mirror, I saw only me looking back, my eyes clear. No blood - must have just been a trick of the lighting in Jadyn’s room. I sighed. The unhealed parts of my Mother were still to be my burden.

During our last conversation, she spewed, “Why are you so difficult? You’re lucky Michael loves you!”

That was also the last she saw of Jadyn. I felt bad about keeping a distance between Jadyn and her Grandmother, but I also felt it important to keep such a toxic influence from penetrating my daughter’s life. As a mother myself, that was my responsibility. One I shouldn’t have had to choose, but nonetheless, here we are.

I left the bathroom to find Michael on the couch, waiting for me before beginning the movie. I sat, cozy, on the couch next to him. We ate our popcorn, finished the movie and went to bed.

*****

The next morning, wearing my bathrobe and slippers instead of getting ready for the day, I met Michael in the kitchen. He turned to bring me my cup of coffee - cream and sugar, just the way I like.

I looked at the cup he put down in front of me.

“You know I like my coffee black!” I said harshly.

“What?” He asked. “Are you feeling okay? You look a little sleepy,” his gentle voice filled with concern.

“I’m fine. Sorry. The coffee’s great. I don’t know why I said that,” I really didn’t. “Thank you,” I added, reveling in the first sip of hot coffee. The wrinkles left Michael’s brow.

Soon, I heard Jadyn’s door creek open and she padded out to the kitchen in her jammies, carrying her dolly by the arm.

“Good Morning, Jadyn!” I greeted her with a smile.

“Good morning!” She sang back. This was our morning routine. We started the day with cheery greetings all around.

“How’d you sleep, Babygirl?” Asked Michael.

“Good!” Returned Jadyn. “Mommy, are you all right? You look different.” Her brow wrinkled little as she looked at me.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just a little tired, I guess. I’ll be fine by the time I finish my coffee. What would you like for breakfast?”

Her eyes sparkled. “Cereal!” She eagerly climbed into her chair at the table, laying the dolly on the table next to her.

Michael poured her a glass of juice, while I got the bowl, cereal and milk.

I turned back from the cupboard, glass bowl in my hand, and shouted. “Get that dirty thing off the table this instant!”

The bowl fell from my hand, shattering on the floor as Jadyn hugged her dolly to her chest, staring at me in frightened astonishment, while tears filled her eyes.

My hands covered my mouth and my wide, teary eyes caught Michael’s. We were both shocked at my words. I rushed into the master bedroom, slamming the door behind me.

After a bit, I heard a quiet knock on the door, followed by Michael’s concerned voice.

“Honey, are you okay?”

“Yes. Come in,” I replied, wiping away the tears running down my hot cheeks.

He came into the room, sitting next to me on the bed.

“Oh, Michael!” I sobbed, laying my head on his shoulder. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me! I’m so sorry! I must be a lot more tired than I thought.” He hugged me and rubbed my back as I cried my bloody tears on his shoulder. I could see the pink stain spreading over his white t-shirt.

“It’s okay, Honey. Jadyn is fine now: giggling as she told me her dream. She knows you’re not feeling well. Why don’t you lie down and rest for a bit?”

“Okay. You’re right.” I curled up in the unmade bed, where Michael covered me with the blankets, giving me a kiss on the forehead before returning to the kitchen and Jadyn. Looking up again at Michael, I couldn’t see the stain my tears had left on his shoulder, but I knew it was there.

I closed my eyes to rest, but couldn’t get comfortable. Finally, I sat up, catching the startling reflection in the mirror. There, the woman stood with her cold, stony eyes peering at me above her smirk and crossed arms. I stared into the mirror, but that reflection was not me. It would never be me.

Again, I heard a knock on the door followed by Jadyn’s soothing voice. “Daddy and I made some tea. I brought you a cup.”

I looked back at the mirror, catching only a glimpse of myself.

“Great!” I returned, hoping my voice sounded welcoming and happy. “Come on in, please!” I took the cup of hot liquid from Jadyn and pulled her into a hug with my other arm. I set the cup on the bedside table, so I could embrace her in both arms.

“Thank you Jadyn! I am so sorry for shouting at you earlier. I really didn’t mean it.”

Pulling her head back from my hold to look at me, she stroked my cheek with her sweet fingers. "I know. Daddy told me you don't feel good."

I grabbed her soft hand and kissed it. “I just need to rest. Thank you for the tea! I’ll be out soon. Then maybe we can watch one of your favorite movies! Okay?” I hope my wide smile is convincing, I thought. It felt fake.

“Okay!” She stated with a big grin, seemingly happy.

Jadyn left me to finish my tea and my nap. I heard the door close softly behind her and I smiled. My sweet girl! So loving, so forgiving.

My eyes were drawn to the mirror on the wall again. The mirror woman had returned. I glared at the image that was not me. I pulled back my arm with a fist as tight as I could make it as I shot it forward to shatter the glass. A sharp shard flew forward, catching me in the throat. As I clutched my neck and fell back on the bed, my thoughts turned to Jadyn.

“Babygirl.” I thought in my head, the blood flow took my voice.

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A wonderful offering from nearly a year ago, KJ presents us with an evocative narrative that takes us on a journey through the complex nature of family legacies. An enticing blend of the supernatural intertwined with the deeply personal struggle of inheriting and transcending familial patterns. This is not only a gripping narrative but an insightful commentary on human behaviour. KJ masterfully explores the internal conflict of a woman haunted by the intangible inheritance of trauma and temperament.

Metaphorically brilliant, the unspoken battle of legacy in all of its manifestations is both thought provoking, and fr many no doubt, familiar. The recurring motif of the mirror, often serving as a tool for self-reflection, offers a darker take on a classic symbol. Learning how to escape the confines of the past is fundamental for future survival. A hard hitting reminder of the strength needed to confront that which haunts us.

Whether you're drawn to tales of familial drama, intrigued by the supernatural, or simply in search of a story that captures the heart's resilience against the backdrop of inherited burdens, "Reflections of a Mother: Blood Runs" promises to be an unforgettable read. A testament to the enduring spirit of those who dare to face the reflections of their past, offering hope that it's possible to redefine a future away from the claws of the past. An absolute gem for sure!

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