Dear mom,
I get it now. I understand the pain.
The regret before the regret. The desire for self-mastery.
But the failure of achievement creeps in like the sleepless nights you
encountered. The self-loathing in the shower. How tired were you? Truly. When Sis and I would fight over remotes while the kitchen
stove burned hot. How your bones must’ve
ached. Where did you find the patience? If so,
can I go to this place? Can you continue to
hold my hand through this? One day
we will all be ash. Somehow oblivion doesn’t
seem so scary looking through your eyes. The
eyes of a hero. My wolf queen. The creator of
us. Your power shines through our voices like
the howl of the moon. I love you. Thank you. I
get it now. The pain in your womb, the
emptiness that lies ahead when we walk our
separate paths, and I trip. You weren’t there to
catch me, and I can hear the fear in your voice.
I hear the echo of your worry ringing in me
when I close my eyes. I worry now too. When she leaves my
sight, even for a split second. I feel the emptiness. The loss of other parents. I feel their sorrow in every heartbeat until I see her again. This world is gross, mommy. You
showed me what it is to love purely. I call it
luck. I’ve seen the unfortunate events that
come with love. Love is pain. There’s beauty in
that. For you, I write. I print these letters with
the blood that came from my birth. With every breath,
these veins pulse with excitement to share the
truth. Your truth. What lies beneath the
umbilical whip of life. The nutrients of your
teachings. I carry them with me like a suitcase.
“Can’t leave home without it!” I always say.
Appreciate me. Know me. Love me. Take me
with you for protection, and I will be your pepper
spray. I will be the x on your map to treasures
unknown. I mark you 3×3 because I am you, and
you are me. We are we. Toes and hands alike.
Warriors against the ink that says we aren’t
worthy. We are not men. We are weak, they say. You
sure showed them! You are a legion of men.
Your strength carries me through every blink,
every inhale. Where did you find it? Where did
you get it? Is this another realm I do not know?
Can we visit it together? If there’s a road less
traveled, take me. Hold my hand as I hold
hers. Will I ever be able to fill your fuzzy socks? I aim to earn your title and wear it like a suit of armor. I hope to be the Matriarch you are to our clan. My dearest teacher, how can I part with you on this journey to your destination? In the end, we’ll all hold the batons. Dear mom. I get it now, I think.