My Fondest Memory of My Mother


For those of you that know me you may know about my mother, if not Ill give you a little recap. When I was a child I remember my mother as this beautiful woman with long red curly hair that matched her painted red nails, in my eyes she was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. However these thoughts are now overlapped with drunken fights, harsh words, dis-honesty and heart-break. Unfortunately now she is homeless caged by an addiction she’s had for years, and I continue to question why, why she treated me the way she did, abandoned me, but most of all, if she could still be helped and the years of pain she must have buried deep.

I wanted to write about my fondest memory of her, because I feel as though I’ve been upset for who my mother has become for too long. Instead I’d like to remember my mother as this beautiful woman, this beautifully broken woman I remember as a child, which I know she still is. Although it is hard to see past the sunken cheeks, bruised fingers, cigarette stained hair, and gummy smile. She had to have been a young girl in her 20s with her whole life ahead of her at some point, and some where along the line she just got lost, and with that she lost me.

My fondest memory of her must have been when I was 9 or 10 [I am unsure what age specifically, All my memories seem to mend together at this point] I had done the dishes all by myself because I wanted to help around the house and I could tell that my mother was stressed. When I did the dishes I used too much soap, so if you had a glass of water if would taste like soap. I was just trying to help, and I was very young, easy mistake. But my mother freaked out at me, screamed at me for doing the dishes wrong, she may have been drunk but my memory is very blurry. I went to my room and thought that it would be a good idea to ‘pretend’ to run away. I did this a few times when I was a kid, but never had the guts to actually runaway [Until I moved out at 16, but that’s a different story]. I was hiding on the balcony that was attached to my room behind the corner, until I realized I should have put stuffed animals under neither my blanket covers. I quickly tried to shove some stuffed animals under the sheets until my mother walked in. I didn’t say anything, I was just thinking about how my plan way foiled. She sat down on the bed and sincerely apologized. I don’t quiet remember what she said, I just remember seeing the look in her eyes, and feeling like I had been acknowledged. I told her that it was okay, which I told her a lot after drunken screaming nights and abuse. But I remember that moment so vividly and the guilt she had for screaming at me. I don’t really know why I remember that memory, or if I am looking back at this memory differently after so many years, but every time I do think about that memory, I miss my mother, honestly miss her, because the person she is now, is not who she was then.

That mother that I remember is buried deep, and I don’t know if I will ever see her again, and of course I still love my mother now, but its complicated, and I don’t know how to help her, she needs serious mental help, and that not something I can do. I’ve encouraged her, cried, fought, and after my brother had past from an overdoes I thought that was going to be the day the fog settled and she finally sought out help, but its been a year now and she is in the same place she was. And I know what you’re thinking, there’s no sense being sad about it, or thinking about it, but I am a part of her and she is a part of me, how could I not keep wondering, hoping that this day wont be the day I find out she's truly gone....