Woman to Woman

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So many things are running through my mind and my throat has entirely swelled shut.
I’m sure, an allergic reaction to the words it will have to allow through.
I’ve prayed for this time for some time, not really expecting such a “time” to come.
Secretly hoping the prayer would be placed in God’s treasure chest of unanswered prayers,
Prayers people think they want answered but God, knowing best, saves them from.
She has been so distant for so long, nothing more than an empty vessel.
Empty vessels make the most noise, and she no different.
Every effort to reach her ricocheted within her, and I found myself cringing in preparation.
She had figured out how to exist within her own realm, and such a sad world she had created.
Then – I thought she wanted to be “there”.
It wasn’t until today I learned different.
“You remember when I dropped the coke in the car and I cried? I thought you’d make me tell you then. I thought you would make me talk to you …but you didn’t”?
My sweet girl was stuck in quick sand and with every effort to free herself she sunk deeper…
And I failed to save her, to fight for her.
Eliminating anger in all its excusing glory, she shared her most dark secrets.
Excuses were no good to her.
She had become thirsty for change and was tired of the bitter drink of defeat.
She had altered her thoughts and allowed God to align them to His will.
Alone. Without me.
She told me she didn’t want secrets anymore, between her and I.
She needed her best friend back…me.
She ended her letter with “Mom, I’m sorry I’m not your perfect little girl.”
And she wasn’t anymore. At that moment I was forced to come to terms with that fact.
It had tried to creep up like ivy on a wall, her woman curves, mature demeanor.
But I wouldn’t let it, I couldn’t.
I needed her to stay little. She’d need me still.
Though not little anymore, but still perfect, always perfect.
She was my young lady, in all her beauty and demand to be seen.
And today I would have to tell her my secret in respect of this new found relationship,
A secret that would prove I wasn’t so perfect either.
She sat in front of me.
Her brown eyes puzzled by my struggle to speak, and tears, oh so many tears.
Once, the cozy coffee shop we had been sitting in, had now become consequently confining.
I asked to move outside, as if that would make the words easier to say
… “After I had you, I had an abortion.”
There. I. Had. Said. It.
I feared she had distain for me in her once-loving eyes, and I dare not look up.
I spoke of that mistake, that sin, not to excuse it or explain it, but to keep her quiet.
Her questions scared me too much to give her the opportunity to ask them,
And when I had said all there was to say, and the unknowing had become greater than the fear,
I looked into her eyes and I said, “I am sorry”…
But there was no disdain, no surprise.
With a mixture of sympathy and love, my beautiful grown young lady answered,
“I’ve known…I read it in your poem book years ago.”
We left the same people we had always been, but truer to the love for one another,
For we had taken off the ill-fitting “Mother” and “Daughter” costumes we had made.
The costumes that hid our “unlovable” mistakes and imperfections,
Dwarfing us into something lovable, all along never really feeling loved.
We had removed our mask and garment as if Halloween had finally ended…
Still we saw love in each other’s eyes.
Now when we hear the other say “I Love you”,
There will be no voice that follows saying…
“She wouldn’t if she knew”,
Because she does,
And still she loves.

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Waiting to be Noticed

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Who is this young girl, with her haughty attitude and unwillingness to listen? Where does this anger and offensiveness come from? Have I done something to push her to her limits, in my awkwardness of mothering and expression of my love?

I have lost the road map to her heart and oh how I have searched high and low, but cannot seem to find it. A once well trotted path has become a vast new world all between me and her.

Her.

How can someone close become a stranger? Strangers are warned against, they are not supposed to be daughters. What are her likes? What is she thinking? Did she have a good day? Did she laugh or did she cry? And those allowed to share in her day, were they aware of how blessed they were?

As invisible as the wind blowing through my hair, as invisible as the oxygen that fills my lungs, as invisible as the God who created me, is as invisible as I have become to her. As I kiss her, as I smile, as I speak to her, my efforts hit her wall of frustration and go no further. She doesn’t seem to notice my existence past the resemblance of a pesky fly. If she did I am sure she would feel my overwhelming need to be welcomed into her world. And she would…welcome me.

Today, I may not know her and she may not see me, but I rest in the fact that, once, she lived within me, just below my heart, a being within my being, feeding from me. She is of me and I will find her again.