Strength

STRENGTH

AGE THREE YEARS

I hate her. She didn’t let me have ice cream. It’s her fault I broke the plate, she made me so angry. I don’t want to sleep at 8.  She’s the worst. 

“I hate you! This is starvation. I’m going to die and it will be all your fault!” 

I pound my fists into my blanket and kick my feet into my soft mattress. 

My heart breaks at Kira’s cries. My food sits untouched next to me. Grant is out late again, busy with work. I don’t know what to do. Tears fall into the freshly baked apple pie I made for dinner. Maybe I should just let her have ice-cream. No, I must stay strong, for my child’s sake. Oh Kira.

AGE SIX

Once again, she’s working. She never has time for me. I’m always alone. 

“Hey baby, I’m so sorry but I’m going to be late again, they extended my shift. I’ll be just a few more hours. Nana is going to come and be with you. I love you. 

“You never have time for me mom. It’s unfair, Nana smells like cat pee.” 

“Kira, don’t say that. You know that’s not true. Be nice.”

“She has all those cat’s mom. I’m going to get covered in cat hair when she hugs me.” 

“Baby, I love you, but I can’t be with you all the time. Be nice to Nana.”

AGE NINE

I don’t understand why she won’t let me dye my hair and buy those boots I wanted to buy. All the girls at school wear them. I’m never going to be cool. It’s all her fault. 

“You can’t go to school wearing that. That skirt is too short, please change.”

“But I’ll be late. You don’t want me late for school do you mom?”

“Kira honey, please change. I don’t have time for this.”

“You never have time for me, just like dad! I would never do this to my kids!”

The rain beats on the roof of the car as my mom sits in line at the school to drop me off. The line stretches all the way around the corner, the thunderstorm ahead causing everyone to be dropping off their kids at once. 

“Just drop me off here, mom.” I reach to open the car door but she has locked it. 

“No honey, you will get all wet, it’s still a block to the school!” She exclaims.

“I would rather get soaking wet then be seen with you!” I slump into my seat and glare at my new red backpack. It’s not the Jan sport one I saw on the TV, rather it’s a second hand one with no brand from Goodwill. Why is life so unfair? It must be Mother’s mission for me to never be cool. 

AGE TWELVE

I am wearing black. We are all wearing black. Mother has lines on her face, when did she start looking so old? Her stark black, still dress brings out the gray at her temple. My father is dead, but I feel nothing. He was shot while doing business. Mother thinks I don’t know, but I know he was a criminal. 

I’m getting out of here as soon as a I can.

I’m almost a teenager, I’m basically an adult. 

AGE FIFTEEN 

She won’t let me stay out past 10. How dare she. Only three more years until I don’t have to live with her anymore. Maybe I’ll run away. I stayed out past curfew yesterday and now im grounded. There is a knock on my closed door. 

“Baby, do you want to watch a movie with me? I made apple pie and you can pick, whatever show you like.” Mother’s soft voice comes through the thin wood. 

“I don’t want to do anything with you. Logan doesn’t have a curfew, or get grounded. I hate apple pie.” 

AGE EIGHTEEN

It’s after 10 pm but I don’t answer any of mother’s calls. What do I care? I’m finally an adult. I can do whatever I want now. I know I’m not supposed to drink until I’m 21, but Logan brought a whole six pack. He said I’m his girlfriend now. I am finally free. Finally, mother can’t force me to do what she wants to do and make me live under her thumb. 

Its 3 am and I feel so sick. I call my mom and she picks up at the first ring. 

I don’t look at her, and she rolls the windows down to allow the night’s breeze to cover up the smell of my sick all over me. 

“I’ll run a hot bath for you when we get home.” She tells me reaching out to hold my hand. 

AGE TWENTY-ONE 

I have my associates in business now and I am working at Taylor’s company. He is the sweetest. He has never abused drugs or drink. My story will be different from Mothers. I will have a child one day and raise her perfectly. 

AGE TWENTY-FOUR

I slowly lay my arching back into the bed, my belly is swollen so wide, it feels like my organs are going to pop out. Any day now. Mother brings me a cup of tea and I sip it slowly, the flavors of my childhood achingly familiar. 

“I love you mom.” 

“Shhh, I love you too. Now rest, soon you will be a mom.”

I look down at the tiny red-faced bundle in my arms. My heart is bursting with joy as I gently pass it to Taylor. He holds her gingerly, as though she might leap out of his arms. She barely cried. She sleeps quietly. Mother has tears running down her cheeks. 

AGE TWENTY-SEVEN

I walk slowly to mother’s house. My whole life we have never moved. I never asked why. I look at the car I got sick in on my 18^th birthday. I used to hate that car. Now I remember all the times she took me to get Froyo in it. The trips to the beach when it would get covered in sand. 

The porch creaks, and the door squeaks and I stomp the snow from my feet.

“Kira baby?” my mom calls. She’s in the kitchen baking apple pie. I love her apple pie. Mother’s apple pie is the best dessert in the world.

“Yes mom. I brought that Ginger Ale you love.” I call out as I take off my heavy jacket. 

Walking into the warm kitchen, mother has her back to me. She seems smaller each time I see her. I reach her and gently wrap my arms around her, laying my cheek on her shoulder. 

“Mom, I love you. I’m so sorry for always giving you such a hassle. I never thought of all the sacrifices you made for me, all the hardships you went through.” My voice cracks.

Mother turns around and her arms go around me.

“Oh baby, what’s wrong?” she asks. 

“I was the worst child. I never realized how hard it is to raise a kid. Lila is the sweetest and still, I barely sleep, she thinks she deserves everything and I swear, she hates me.” A sob breaks free of my chest and my shoulders shake. 

“Kira baby, she could never hate you. You are her world, just as you are mine.” Mothers voice is also choked up and her breaths are uneven. 

I don’t know who is holding who up anymore, we are both crying, me, big ugly soul shaking gulps of air, and mother, gentle sobs, but she is shaking like a leaf. 

“When did you get so thin mum?” she has no fat on her bones.

I pull her down with me and we sit on the warm tiles, now she is sitting on my lap. How many times did she hold me like this whenever I was hurt? 

“I was such a terrible child.” I mutter. Flashes of all the times I told her I hated her feels like a heavy stone on my chest. “Now I’m getting my Karma back. I only want the best for lila, but she hates me now too.”

“This is motherhood. This is why we are strong. We raise the new generation. We are the nurturers and sometimes the discipliner. There will be bad days, but the good days will be always there to warm you heart, no matter how cold to you she is. After all, you are her mother, she can never truly hate you.”

“Thank you for everything you gave me. I can’t imagine where I would be without everything you did to help me. Now I know it wasn’t easy.” 

“being a mother never is, but it is the most rewarding. Look at what an amazing woman you are, and a even better mother. I could never ask for a better child.”

We laugh and hold each other, reminiscing on memories, good and bad. I can’t wait till I can laugh with my child and she understands the sacrifices made for her wellbeing. Now I am mother and I will be strong.