Mother’s Day has been loaded for me since I was a teenager… not because of my own mother, but because of my abuser. She beckoned me toward her and simultaneously shut the door in my face, so I never knew if it was ok to celebrate her or not. Whether or not I celebrate her with cards and flowers, past memories wash over me like saltwater waves~ beautiful with a bitter taste in my mouth.
With the exception of the part of the day with my own sister and mother, I spent the day staring into space. I sat on the couch and looked out the window, watching animals and their humans walk by, subconsciously driving down Weslayan toward Drake in my mind, noting that we have to go to Central Market and maybe Dana wouldn’t mind driving me by…
I snap out of my daze and realize that these memories need to stay in my head. Nothing will be accomplished by trying to jog my memory even further, because I’m already feeling emotionally crispy and I don’t want to exacerbate the situation. Staring out the window and thinking is both the best and the worst I can do.
To quote myself from a long ago entry on a long ago blog, “so we sat there, my spirit and I, wrestling each other without keeping score.”
Stories That Are All True 