I\u2019ve been ditching mom\u2019s 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. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

It\u2019s 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. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

She said she missed me. It\u2019s 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. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

She cries: she had it hard; there wasn\u2019t any help available back then; one had to tough it out best they could. She took it out. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I said: I understand, I feel your pain. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

There was no help, I toughed it out best I could. Forgive yourself. Now we are crying both. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

She smiles at me: You\u2019ve always been mature one. \u201cI felt\u201d, she said, \u201cthat even as a kid, your soul was older, wiser than mine.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I took the pride of staying calm, suppressing all. Mom\u2019s life was hard; she had the right to feel, the right to pain, frustration, anger; I did not. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cRemember, when I beat you then?\u201d – her tears of remorse return. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019d look at me \u2014 your dark deep eyes. You wouldn\u2019t cry, you wouldn\u2019t fight, you\u2019d stare at me. I felt the judgement in your eyes; that stubborn power drove me mad; and I hit harder.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Do I remember\u2026 Can I forget? <\/p>\n\n\n\n

She sobs. My turn to speak, to comfort her. But something rattles loose. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI was a kid\u201d – escapes my mouth. \u201cThat quiet \u2018stare of an old mature soul\u2019 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\u2019t \u2018wise old soul\u2019; that was me, learning to be small.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I do forgive.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

May you find peace. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

May you feel love. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I am unlearning to be small. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I\u2019ve been ditching mom\u2019s calls for a couple of weeks now. No apparent reason, or conflict to avoid, just busy … <\/p>\n

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