Mothers and Children

Mothers and Children

I called mom the other day. I don’t call her very often because it’s too painful. I only call her on a day when I feel safe, a Monday when my brother is there.

I called her and bit my lip as she told me all about how her children always visit. They bring her food and wine and they take such wonderful care of her. My stomach churned when she said “Us mothers deserve to be taken care of when we get old. We’ve earned it”. I didn’t want to have this conversation with her again. So I hesitated and she said “What? You’ll see. Your children will take care of you when you’re old too”. The lump in my throat grew larger and I could feel the tears stinging as I whispered, “I don’t have children”. “Yes you do!”, she exclaimed.

Then she changed the subject and asked “Will I ever see you again?”. I squeaked out a reply, reminding her I had been there in May and making empty promises that I’d be home again soon. She said “You probably don’t want to be here on a night when someone else is here, but we can have our own night, just you and me. It’ll be fun”. I whimpered “Mhm-hmm” and told her I had to go.

I’ll never see my mother or my children again.

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