I’ve got three children who after meeting my Mama at 30, showed me all side of her.
My son. A Virgo. Just like Mama.
My daughter. A Leo. Born the same month. Middle names the same as hers and yet I didn’t even consciously remember that? It’s got filed and slapped on one of my previous ones.
God is good. And makes sure all the links were in place. I’ve paralleled her my whole life in different levels. We do many of the same things but our mental process are different and Mamas mind has lacked my story to make it all slip into view?
My son. So a loner. Much like me. Extroverted introvert. I’ve been forced to be on. A people person I did need to be to survive.
But. Quiet is so nice. I get it Mama.
Trying to listen to Mama in the wind away from the voices that contradict. Praying for clarity in a pig pen Mama sent me too. I did not leave her palace and go to spend my gains against her will. She threw me into a protocol position. Unknowingly sent me to Valhalla to meet the devil Himself and report my finding.
The only devil I found was ignorance masked as a man wit horn because people can’t seem to see and face their own inherited shit and refuse to see. Mama has not told me a thing to make me see? Guess I see well? She’s not corrected me like loving Mamas do?
I hear her yell as reading that sentence before this one, “I tried! “. Not hard enough Mama. You’ve been lazy since I got home about me? So worried the girls will fall apart or whatever the fart is they will do? They won’t. I’m the proof girl? If I came back? They won’t leave. Even if I’m crazy and whatever the popular gossip or hypothesis these days is about me?
It’s all wrong because the info you had was incomplete and so a fair judgement call could not be made due to lack of knowledge that I have provided now.
You all took it so personally?
Seems about the right reaction to my words because I didn’t take it to well either back when I experienced it all.
It’s like bubbles that keep burping up. I stuffed a lot. And mama and I can’t even build without a proper foundation which meant tearing down the old ideas so she could get it. And learn the lesson of why she was born to do this and the flaws and all of the adoption system.
Adoption I guess? From what I’ve gathered was a good fit for Mama? She prattled on how it was great and her life seem to reflect wealth and status? Why does she get so upset when I come around? And when I ask questions or want to enjoy a tour of her home? It’s my Mamas House!!!!, you loony woman who’s got my Mom Hostage inside there!!
Give her back!!
She lead me to believe,
She didn’t even give me a thought. Why?
Well she never told me about her thoughts like I did?
Flowers. I gave her 30 dandelions for each year I was denied the honor to give her them growing up. I was thirty when we met again.
That woman doesn’t even realize that I spent 300 dollars on a phone bill just to hear her voice when I needed to connect and life was rough?
She never checked on me in Nashville? And then I was divorcing and she said I was out of gods will to leave a man who was abusive to us all? He didn’t know any better. And I wanted better than what I married which turned out to be more like my adoptive mom? Ugh.
My family evidently expected me to do all of the work? Cards. Letters. Gifts. And oh. Don’t reach out to me and see how I am now that you can? No no no. I’m. Now. A stranger to my own kin? Thanks adoption. The gift that just keeps on taking.
What a bunch of lazy losers they act like? Got no spunk. No vigor for life. And no creativity on how to build again? Fresh.
Maybe Mama will move and sell the house and buy herself a new view? That would be sweet. That house is way to big for just her. Maybe Victoria will move in and care for her when she’s unable to care for herself?
But I can’t help but feel that house is holding her down and back. Memories. Losses. Maybe a new home would help Mama see change can be freeing. She could give away pieces now to those she loves and see them enjoy using it now? Instead of being a ghost looming? Later.
She could be a thrift store for sure. And a cookbook library. 🤣🤣 and I love it. All the stuff. But it’s won’t fill the whole she blew into her own heart like the pieces that are me coming back to fill that place. And I brought friends and grandchildren to fill her quiver full too.
I need to go thrift shopping. And I want to go with my own Mama.
But she still crying over the milk spilled instead of cleaning it up with me and getting dress to go?
And I’m not having that behavior any more.
It’s time to put the big girl pants on Mama and call me. It’s time to
Show up. It’s always time to
Show up. No need for invites.
When I came home? I accepted you. Just like Jesus. I didn’t leave you like that though. Just like Jesus and shared the truth so we all can be free.
Free to be family and explore what that means now. Calls. Texts. Pics. Recipes. Stories. Wine and shopping. Laced with prayer and hugs of good will. Good foods. And grandchildren visiting. Cousins forming stronger bonds then before. God. Alive among us because the one separated from the flock came home and the Shepard lead her.
Now. With all this writing. You can clearly see that my grammars all off. I write in first third and second person. All over the place. Here. There. Back forth. That’s what it’s like inside my mind. But I’ve made it work somehow. And even if my grammar and speaking suck I still love my Moms.
They drive me crazy. But each day even if I don’t write. It’s them on my mind.