The sun is settin' like molasses in the sky

The face I still make when I am mad.

When I was younger, my mother was my world. She was the person I thought could do no wrong. I saw the drugs, the alcohol, and the absences for days at a time. I did not register them as faults but personality traits. They were who she was. They were not bad. Nothing she did was bad.

I had this rose-colored image of her that I wasn’t able to shake until around age twenty. For twenty years I watched and allowed my heart to be let down time and time again just waiting for the moment when I would finally have a mother. Like a puppy, waiting by the door I diligently sat craving her love and attention. If that was just part of who she was, why did I have to feel so empty on nights when she was gone? To say I have abandonment issues would be an understatement.

Last week, my mother was arrested. When my brother told me the news, I stared blankly for a moment. I did not ask why. My brain automatically assigned my feelings to resignation and lack of interest. Another flaw in her personality. But I felt my jaw clench momentarily with anger.

When I thought about my reaction later, after learning why it brought an incredible sense of sadness back to me. Sadness I thought was long ago buried. I know that it will never fully be buried. I know that I will never fully accept the fact that my mother is not a part of my life and hasn’t been for quite some time now.

Nevertheless every now and then when I smell fried eggs the child within me yearns to be seated at the counter with my mother, dipping toast into eggs over medium and watching the yolk, like lava envelope the plate. Like a flashbulb memory I can smell the stale smoke and day-old Tresor perfume. Suddenly I can feel myself smiling unknowingly and I long to pick up the phone and tell her about my day. It takes everything in me to shove those emotions back and remember why not having her in my life is better.

I am no longer that mousy blonde child whose eyes peered through the diamond shape window of my bedroom waiting for the head lights of my mother’s car to appear after her absence. Instead I am an adult, with an incredibly large hole inside of me, wondering how I will fill the void and find acceptance.

Waiting to find peace.

You can only lose what you cling to. - Buddah

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