A tender subject

My heart and soul are always seeking the comfort only a mother can bring. My whole life, I have been wishing for that woman. The one who is like a gentle whisper one moment and capriously transforms herself into a state of absence. I know my mother loved me. I always question what or who caused her to be so different than most mothers. My mother has the softest prettiest voice until it turns on me and I am taken back to the times she felt frozen. I think of the days long ago when I was carried by my mother only to be angrily cast aside and dropped into my crib. I was all alone and screaming because she was closing the door. She took a long time closing the door as if she really wanted me to be freighened because the room was going dark. I remember screaming “Mommy…..Mommy…..Mom…my”. I feared that no worse distress would bring her back to me. I kept banging my head on the crib and crying and crying until I was exhausted. Was she so burdened with children and housework that she could not find the time for me? It makes me really sad even to write that thought

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There were times when I was young that I wished I was never born. Really what was the point. Why did they have another child. I could in no way foresee what was to happen to me. Childhood is supposed to be full of joy and wonderment. I suppose there where times when I felt joy. Adults easily forget what that was like. I did not forget. Even now with over half my life gone I still get that feeling of excitement and wonderment when I discover something new. I guess there is a child still crying out to play and to be loved and protected. The greatest thing that I felt that I needed from my mom was to be loved and to be hugged and told that everything is going to be all right. But sadly there was something worse than not having those things. I needed protection from my father. But she failed at that as well.

But no matter what, “I still love you Mom.


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