I walked into the room cautiously. She was sitting on the bed, folding the clothes, her back towards me. The sight of her made my heart sink. Another wave of nausea hit me as it always did when I thought about telling her what I was going to tell her now. Mostly it was because I always wanted to believe I was doing the right thing and it would never come to this, and even after that proved to be false, I was just too stubborn to admit that she was right, right from the start. As I walked up to her and patted her on the back, she turned around and smiled, handing me a bunch of clothes that I needed to put in my bag and joked around saying something about how they were washed now and I'll have beautifully fragrant clothes for the trip. Her jokes however, were in vain, because I could barely hear her from the words that were swimming in my head. "Where do I begin? How do I tell her? More importantly, WHAT do I tell her? Will she be upset? Will she grumble? Will she say the words that I'd inevitably come to hear and that had begun to haunt me even in my sleep? "I told you so." Could I do this? SHOULD I do this? Maybe its just better if I don't say anything. But I knew, even as all these questions clogged my mind, that I was going to tell her.
She must've sensed something, because her smile was slowly replaced by a questioning look in her eyes. She probably also noticed the obvious obscurity that was my face. At first, with the way she was looking at me, a funny image crossed my mind where she thought I was pregnant or something. The blatant absurdity of that alone almost made me laugh. ALMOST.
As she watched me, I closed my eyes, licked my lips to make sure that it was not dry with nerves, took a deep breath, and began..
Somewhere in between my story, I opened my eyes. But not once did I look in her direction. Not once did I glance to see what her reaction was. All I did was look at my hands. As the words tumbled out, I didn't think of what I was telling her. I just told her everything. Everything that had happened. Everything that id felt. Everything that I had gone through. How she was right all along. How love or at least the idea of it had made me blind. How I had failed to see what I should've seen. How I had gone against everything everyone said because I wanted to defy the universe. It all came out. Word after word. Emotion after emotion. Feeling after feeling.
When I was done, I looked up. My eyes were surprisingly dry, even though I had the terrible urge to bawl them out. But I stayed calm. I shook my head and said, "I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. I should've listened to you. It would never have come to this if I had."
When I was finally valiant enough to look at her, I was given the last reaction that I'd ever expected. I expected her to be smirking, I expected her to be laughing with triumph, I expected her to say, "I told you so." The very words that Id come to despise. I expected her to shoo me away and make me sulk in a corner rather than come to her for comfort. I expected the cold shoulder. But when I looked at her, all she did was pull me close and wrap her arms around me.
And that was it. That's when it finally hit home. That's when the pain that id been carrying like a burden for all those months, came gushing out in a wave of salt water running down my cheeks. The pain of a broken heart. The pain of hearing everyone around me say, "I told you he would leave." The pain of useless hope. The pain of, 'I never loved you. I would never have come back.' The pain of "you're too much drama" The pain of haunting nightmares of memories that had seared themselves into my brain. I let it all out, as I held on to her tightly and sobbed till my heart went numb.
When i finally pulled back and looked at her face, all i saw was tears. Tears that were rolling down those lovely cheeks that were slightly beginning to wrinkle with age. She was looking at me with so much love. Her nose turning a slight color of crimson. I'd expected a smirk, instead I'd gotten a tear. Id expected a laugh of triumph, instead I'd gotten a cry of grief. Instead of "I told you so." I'd gotten, "Oh, my poor babydoll." And instead of the cold shoulder that I was so blindly expecting, she pulled me close into a warm tight embrace. I looked at her and that was my moment of clarity. In that moment, I realized that I wasn't the only one who had suffered all those months. When I cried myself to sleep at night, she cried with me. When I hid the pain under that big smile that I gave everybody, she fretted with me. Despite the fact that I had kept it all from her, she knew every little detail. Every emotion, every feeling, every expression whether seen or hidden. Because she was my mother. And I was a part of her. The very core of her existence. She made me, and therefore knew every little thing that her daughter felt. She knew my soul. Because we were connected, and always would be. My mother loved me, and no matter what, always would.
That was my moment of clarity. That was the moment I knew. The moment when the pieces of my broken heart picked itself up and pieced itself together. All it took was acceptance...
...and a mother's love.
She must've sensed something, because her smile was slowly replaced by a questioning look in her eyes. She probably also noticed the obvious obscurity that was my face. At first, with the way she was looking at me, a funny image crossed my mind where she thought I was pregnant or something. The blatant absurdity of that alone almost made me laugh. ALMOST.
As she watched me, I closed my eyes, licked my lips to make sure that it was not dry with nerves, took a deep breath, and began..
Somewhere in between my story, I opened my eyes. But not once did I look in her direction. Not once did I glance to see what her reaction was. All I did was look at my hands. As the words tumbled out, I didn't think of what I was telling her. I just told her everything. Everything that had happened. Everything that id felt. Everything that I had gone through. How she was right all along. How love or at least the idea of it had made me blind. How I had failed to see what I should've seen. How I had gone against everything everyone said because I wanted to defy the universe. It all came out. Word after word. Emotion after emotion. Feeling after feeling.
When I was done, I looked up. My eyes were surprisingly dry, even though I had the terrible urge to bawl them out. But I stayed calm. I shook my head and said, "I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. I should've listened to you. It would never have come to this if I had."
When I was finally valiant enough to look at her, I was given the last reaction that I'd ever expected. I expected her to be smirking, I expected her to be laughing with triumph, I expected her to say, "I told you so." The very words that Id come to despise. I expected her to shoo me away and make me sulk in a corner rather than come to her for comfort. I expected the cold shoulder. But when I looked at her, all she did was pull me close and wrap her arms around me.
And that was it. That's when it finally hit home. That's when the pain that id been carrying like a burden for all those months, came gushing out in a wave of salt water running down my cheeks. The pain of a broken heart. The pain of hearing everyone around me say, "I told you he would leave." The pain of useless hope. The pain of, 'I never loved you. I would never have come back.' The pain of "you're too much drama" The pain of haunting nightmares of memories that had seared themselves into my brain. I let it all out, as I held on to her tightly and sobbed till my heart went numb.
When i finally pulled back and looked at her face, all i saw was tears. Tears that were rolling down those lovely cheeks that were slightly beginning to wrinkle with age. She was looking at me with so much love. Her nose turning a slight color of crimson. I'd expected a smirk, instead I'd gotten a tear. Id expected a laugh of triumph, instead I'd gotten a cry of grief. Instead of "I told you so." I'd gotten, "Oh, my poor babydoll." And instead of the cold shoulder that I was so blindly expecting, she pulled me close into a warm tight embrace. I looked at her and that was my moment of clarity. In that moment, I realized that I wasn't the only one who had suffered all those months. When I cried myself to sleep at night, she cried with me. When I hid the pain under that big smile that I gave everybody, she fretted with me. Despite the fact that I had kept it all from her, she knew every little detail. Every emotion, every feeling, every expression whether seen or hidden. Because she was my mother. And I was a part of her. The very core of her existence. She made me, and therefore knew every little thing that her daughter felt. She knew my soul. Because we were connected, and always would be. My mother loved me, and no matter what, always would.
That was my moment of clarity. That was the moment I knew. The moment when the pieces of my broken heart picked itself up and pieced itself together. All it took was acceptance...
...and a mother's love.
