The Mother I Never Deserved: A Letter

9:06 AM

A year came about when I had turned four I tugged at your sleeve, begging not to let me go. Even as tears brimmed my eyes that very morning As you combed my curly hair into braids; As you told me I would make new friends; Just a woman, sending her child to kindergarten. The cerulean skies were bright that one fine day When flour stained your rosy cheeks, And eggs were beaten in your favourite bowl. I stared at myself in the mirror, turning ten; I stared at you in the kitchen, turning fifty-six; Just a woman, celebrating her child’s birthday. At the end of the year I turned twelve My name was called, and I walked up the stage While you waited on the side, tears already falling. You were so proud, you thanked me; You were so proud, you held me; Just a woman, appreciating her child’s success. At fourteen my smiles were gone The sky turned grey, the earth stopped spinning, As I pressed a kiss on your forehead, my heart shattered. You lay there, unmoving; You lay there, not breathing; I watched them lower you into the ground. Turning twenty, your birthday is in four days Five hundred kilometres away from home now, Away from your resting place. The trees were painted with whites and pinks; The sky was bright again; Tell me, ma, would you come visit And are you proud of the person I chose to be?