Mother

The storms are raging; slamming and cracking this white picket fence as a broken relationship freezes in time. You were never a hero. You just wanted to be one. The house in the country with the beautiful green grasses, flower gardens, and welcome mats never were. I don't dream about these things anymore or wait for you to become someone you are not. The antique hands of time have been spinning, faster and faster--we have finally ran out of time. I spent half of my life learning, there's nothing more I could do and that the only heart I could open is my own. I accept my powerlessness when it comes to you. The echoes of what could've been are haunting--they sound sweet, enduring, nurturing, and full of love. They sound nothing like you. Stop. Rewind. Welcome to reality and is this really my story? Come on M-O-M. R-e-a-l-ity. I have stopped living in the should've, could've, would've's because some lives are not mine to live. Until now, I have not spoken a word of what I learned from you. I have learned from you how to dismiss my fear of the unknown and be afraid of myself instead. As a person, we can make or break the one and only thing that can keep us alive--OURSELVES. It has been both scary and beautiful to learn that I have the power but I have been giving it away to everything else all of these years, including you. I am both; the question and the answer. I am, me and God knows the rest. You only get credit for giving me to a world that thought I was a reflection of you. These labels I have had to withstand-- the liar, the cheat, the one who walks with the devil, the grudge holder, the naive, and the stupid; none of that was ever me. Somehow, I have spent my days trying to preserve me so I don't look just like you. I preserved me, you didn't. For once in my life, it is ME, that rejects you. You no longer have the ability to live this facade or stare into the eyes of others dishonestly. The curtain has closed. The story has ended. You will not make me smaller than I am but you will remain less than you ever wanted to be. You will carry the guilt of what could've been because I have buried my guilt alive with the love you never gave. Stop. Rewind. Welcome to reality. This is really my story. Come on M-O-M. R-e-a-l-ity. My hope is that some day you turn around and take the mask down. I pray that you have enough grace to look at yourself with love and you stop projecting misery onto others. I hope you write the end of your story about what it feels like to be freed from the chains that bind you. These are the last writings in this story. All that holds us together are the dreams of what could have been and the heart break of what is now; the mercy of tomorrow, and a lifetime of trying to forgive. You have taken forgiveness from me; I do not forgive you.