Childhood
Dear Mother
Dear Mother, It has been 10 years since we have talked, but I want you to know that, not a day goes by that you do not cross my mind. I am forty-one now and so much has occurred in the last ten years. First, genetics finally caught up with me. You were twenty-five when you had your first heart attack- I was lucky to dodge the bullet till thirty-nine ( I guess I was doing something right- insert crying laughing emoji) After two heart attacks with a coding incident, one pacemaker, six blood clots and taking a handful of pills on purpose daily- I am happy to announce that I am still here to continue seeing your grandchildren who are now fifteen and sixteen, make it to adult hood. I say this because, with the uncensored reality of my mortality -there is something vital I need you to know before we see one another. I know the day will come, and we will be face to face, so I want to clear the air, so we can start our second relationship fresh.
By Andrea Cummings4 years ago in Confessions
A Salamander's Confession
Mother, I debated for a long time whether this was even worth writing, and I’m fully aware that as you read this your face will transform with your self-righteous laughter, as if it’s the height of hubris for me to appeal to you in any way. You, the mighty mountain of motherhood. The one who sacrificed all her happiness for the health and well-being of her children. The one who put her entire life on hold to ensure we wanted for nothing. And then there’s me, the Lucifer to your Michael. The fallen one. The swamp dweller. The one still crawling around on her belly while you walk on your own two feet.
By Sarah Green4 years ago in Confessions
Bored and lonely
To my rock, my role model, and my Mother, You have been many things in my life, and we have shared a hundred thousand moments together. We are as close as they come for mother-daughter relationships, but this was not always the case, at least not as a child and most definitely not as a teenager. This relationship didn’t fully develop until I was a full-blown mother and maybe not even until I became a grandmother. As an only child, I often wondered why you never blessed me with siblings. Although I was always happy being on my own and occupying my own space, I came to realise how lonely I really was growing up after having my own children and watching them play, interact, and develop such special relationships with one another. In hindsight, the reality of it is that I really had no choice but to be comfortable on my own and in my own skin
By Tanya Kwirky Kirkegaard4 years ago in Confessions
Dear Mom
Dear Mom, We knew you were drunk and it’s finally time that I told you all about it. Mikayla and I wanted to believe that it wasn’t true. You and Dad argued because you had sworn to him that you would be able to stay sober for the visitation. That time you hadn’t expected him to drop us off and enforce the court mandated breathalyzer, instead of his so-called “best friend.” Yeah we knew you guys were sleeping together and Dad was probably just trying to deny it.
By Zach Oden4 years ago in Confessions
A Secret Never shared to my mom
Mom, when i think of the many times you have been there for me, i feel ungrateful, as I haven't shown you true gratitude for the times you have saved me from myself. As a boy, I have looked to you for nourishment, for advice, for spiritual counselling, for learning to be an adult, and many more. Since that span of time, I have asked and received, but have not reciprocated the same for you.
By UGOCHUKWU HARBOR4 years ago in Confessions
Moonlight
Dear Mom, It's been 32 years since I entered this world and our relationship began. Poverty, pain, and panic attacks have littered the road, but we've made it! I often reflect on the time we have spent together and the rocky path we have walked to arrive here.
By HeyItsPhephen4 years ago in Confessions
why Violet looks years older?
As a schoolboy in Soviet Russia in the 1960s, my hands were almost never clean. Don’t get me wrong – I washed them as much as anyone else. But the school rules made us practise our penmanship in ink, which came in violet. It was the only colour of ink allowed, and it was precariously stored in a small jar, along with a wooden pen with replaceable metal nibs. Ink jars had a bad habit of constantly falling over, squirting my hands, face, uniform, notebooks and textbooks with violet blots that stayed for days. The blots, and my endless violet scribbles, are the main memories of my early education. Why did the USSR’s Communist Party leaders opt for violet ink to teach the young generation? That’s a mystery we might never be able to crack.
By Mia Lee4 years ago in Confessions
