growing up i never got to see many photos of my mother when she was a child. i love this photo truthfully because we look alike. i love the photos of her as a kid because i get to see her teeth which is something you rarely find in photos of her as an adult. through my young eyes, my mother was (and still is) the most graceful, confident, and hilarious woman i know. i always knew something was different about my mother because she told us. this is something i have come to appreciate about my mother as an adult: her ability to own her life story. i have said before that my grandmother suffered in silence so that i can scream now. for me to have even got here, it has to be noted that it was my mother who broke the mold by speaking even if it was in whispers. and i thank her every chance i get for that.

tammy

a poetic prose

mama, every morning i think of you. i know i will continue to think of you until the day my soul closes the door on this life. these days i imagine you in another life. in this other life, trauma does not coat you on the way out of your mother’s womb. there is no lie in your last name. the hospital room does not reek of cotton fields and segregation. in this other life, that sick, evil man is not your father. instead, you have a father who is kind and protective. a father with whom you are not afraid to leave your kids alone. a father whose name you do not say only in therapy. so you get to grow up with the security a father’s unconditional love can bring. and grandma is not mean to you in this other life. there are no braided switches for when you are freshly out of the bath. there is no extension cord sliding across your back. in this other life, the fact that you are the darkest sister is not always pointed out. instead, you are told that georgia girls do not have to be the color of our clay to be beautiful.

mama, in this other life, you do not get lost because you are not afraid to hide your smile. instead, you let it get so big you show all your teeth. so bright that it is almost too easy to find your way out of the darkness. you become a singer on broadway or maybe move to france to be a cancan dancer. and you still manage to finish nursing school. there are no drugs to deter you. no children to keep you tethered to your bed. no men to abuse you. no offspring to point out every flaw of yours. there is no mother’s guilt to be used to manipulate you. in this other life, you do not meet any of our fathers because you were too busy traveling well into your thirties. you meet a man who is loving and loyal. and though we may not be your children in this other life, you have lived it to the fullest and loved every moment of it. you never have to say, “i was just surviving.”

i want to express my heartfelt gratitude to you for taking the time to read my work. it really means the world to me. feel free to clap, comment, and/or highlight; your support is genuinely valued on my end. if you are curious on how to and/or willing to further support me. you can buy me a pen. i also value good ol’ fashion word of mouth, so please feel free to share my piece and consider exploring this blog post. thank you again for reading this far.

Until Next Time Winter

regret

zaria rashay