I Miss My Mom
I miss my mom. She had good days and bad seasons. On a good day, she’d play with me. Metaphorically ducking her head into my house of imagination. Sometimes we’d play Kingdom where I was the Queen and she my lowly servant. I’d make absurd demands and when she’d fall short, I’d yell, “Off with her head!” In a whimsical British accent, she’d plead for her life, “Oh but your Majesty, mercy please.” Inebriated with power, I’d deny her wish. Then when the game was over, she’d smile and affectionately stroke my nappy hair…and just like that, all was forgiven.
I miss my mom. She had good days and bad seasons. During a bad season she’d lie asleep for days under blankets of depression dreaming of the day when she would return to her first self. Like a living corpse, she’d lie in her coffin of a bed awakening only to weep. Sitting outside of her door, wishing my Queenly powers could take away the pain…wishing she would come out and play. Even as a child thinking, I’m not enough to make her happy.
I miss my mom. She had good days and bad seasons. On a good day, she’d sing to me walking home from revival on a warm summer’s night. “I don’t know what tomorrow’s gonna bring, it may bring sunshine. Then again, it just may rain. I do know that…we’re gonna make it afterall.” In her arms I slept and the creatures of the night were powerless against her embrace. I was safe. I was loved.
I miss my mom. She had good days and bad seasons. One bad season she left. She left town heading east on foot. Where or who she was going to no one ever knew. She left her home with her coffin of a bed collecting dust. She left her pills in timeout rotting in the medicine cabinet. She left me….at the nice pastor’s house with no activator for my jerry curl, no estimated time of return and no forwarding address.
I miss my mom. She had good days and bad seasons. She had a way with words – collecting them like rare exotic coins displayed in rows on typing paper. She taught me to dig for them in the canals of dictionaries, thesauri and encyclopedias. Before the world of google, Suri and apps, she taught me to string words together and make beautiful poetry….so whether I was good or bad, I’d always be wealthy.
I miss my mom. She had good days and bad seasons. Don’t we all?