I am 54 years young. And what I am really spun about is that My Mama, wasn’t even waiting for me…… I found my way home. And she was more annoyed and angry. I thought I guess that she would be proud of such a feat? I guess I should not have thought at all. Because I was so wrong.
Yeah. It hurts a lot these days as I face the truth of her silence again. As the lack of sound coming from he is deafening. And my spirit mourns our loss alone. She’s not dead, But might as well be. I lived I. A bubble of Mama Jeans protection for years. And I knew what she told me was not my truth. It’s the trush I now face that is my truth with my Mama, not what Mama Jean tried to feed me.
I am grown and now feast on the truth from my Mamas table. As she feeds me silence, I grow strong in my resolve to change it for another. My stories plain as day, right in my face. My Mama does not see a blessing when she looks or thinks of me. Now. Please. Don’t be sorry for me. Pity has never help a soul. What I need is o accept it. I need to accept this is where she and I are. And always have been.
As I sit her outside smoking a menthol cigarette, I ask myself why, I ask God why, again. Why does it matter so much? Why does nothing matter but her? What is the point? And my heart longs. For her. My Mama and I don’t know how to get her back. And yet I am driven to keep trying, keep knocking down the weeds In Our way, alone. My kids don’t care. My friends don’t care. They have their Mamas and don’t even know how I feel. Why can’t I let this go?
And all I feel is an alarm going off inside, over and over it calls me home. Home to Mama.
That’s. How it is for me. An adoptee who just wants to go home and be accepted for who she has become.
Lord, help me. Help me. Please. Help me find the words. That will make her see me for who I am. Help her see. Please.
Thanks for diving deep with me today.
And god bless.