I’ve been ditching mom’s calls for a couple of weeks now. No apparent reason, or conflict to avoid, just busy during the window 10 hours difference dictates – mundane excuses. This morning I was finally free. But instead of picking up, I declined the call and straight up lied to her via text, instead of lying to myself again.
It’s been a few weeks since the last time we talked. Her: feeling down and taking a remorseful walk down the memory lane; me: dragging along for the sake of her comfort.
She said she missed me. It’s been 3 years since I crossed the Atlantic ocean between us. She said, she wished she could go back to the time of my childhood and do it over. She said she was sorry; I said I forgave.
She cries: she had it hard; there wasn’t any help available back then; one had to tough it out best they could. She took it out.
I said: I understand, I feel your pain.
There was no help, I toughed it out best I could. Forgive yourself. Now we are crying both.
She smiles at me: You’ve always been mature one. “I felt”, she said, “that even as a kid, your soul was older, wiser than mine.”
She smiles, I try to meet her smile. Adults back then said that a lot when I was small. It sounded like a praise. I learned – take pride.
I took the pride of staying calm, suppressing all. Mom’s life was hard; she had the right to feel, the right to pain, frustration, anger; I did not.
“Remember, when I beat you then?” – her tears of remorse return.
“You’d look at me — your dark deep eyes. You wouldn’t cry, you wouldn’t fight, you’d stare at me. I felt the judgement in your eyes; that stubborn power drove me mad; and I hit harder.”
Do I remember… Can I forget?
She sobs. My turn to speak, to comfort her. But something rattles loose.
“I was a kid” – escapes my mouth. “That quiet ‘stare of an old mature soul’ was horror of a child, who froze in fear, unable to move. Knowing, having learned that anything I do would make you strike, become the reason you were mad. Retrieve inside, withstand inevitable storm… Oh mom! That wasn’t ‘wise old soul’; that was me, learning to be small.”
I do forgive.
May you find peace.
May you feel love.
I am unlearning to be small.
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