flowers in the city

When the sun hit the right side of the headboard, Stephanie woke up feeling different, it would be normal if she woke up in her own bed as this is how she woke up every day, optimistic, in her apartment, with flowers on her window seal and the sun that shines bright right to her rose gold bedroom décor.  But today is another type of optimistic, the cautious kind; hoping for the best, expecting the worst in the not-so-new environment she once called home.

Dark walls and a heater just above the window that covered the first glimpse of sunshine and that musky smell that filled the house so much so she could smell it even on her pillow. It reminded her of the wet ground, it rained a lot in the city ‘in her days’ and it made the air coming through the window smelled like fresh soil, where a flower can grow even with the least of sunlight, only if given the chance by a passerby who doesn’t step on it or leave it in a garden patch box that smelled of mold.

Aunty B had been there for three days, welcoming well wishes, thanking guests for support, and making arrangements for family members. Steph loved being around her, she made the world seem something she had under control. Maybe that’s why the return felt different this time around, hopeful if one may say.

Leaving home was a breath of fresh air or at least that’s how it felt at this time. Childhood best friend, Lauren wouldn’t miss this important moment in my life even though we haven’t seen each other in 3 years.  Lala, as she introduces herself, has always been a ‘people’s person’, got along with everyone and because she has such a young mom, she was always to experience and experiment with anything she thinks was worth her time. I loved her independence and wished for it, for myself but I couldn’t explain it to her when was the last saw each other after graduation 7 years ago when I ditched an Ivy league law school for a community college in a place I knew nothing but the number of coffee shops it had and that’s all I needed.

 Lauren: we could’ve moved in together and had an actual real as your art studio, do you really have to go. She asked.

 Stephanie: sounds great! 

Cruella would be able to reach me whenever have Evil powers came full force!

 Lauren: but David is gone, doesn’t that make it better?

 Stephanie: I thought it would but no, my stepdad was never really the problem.

 My stepdad went to find himself after his wife made him seem like a weirdo and weak for expressing his feelings. Something like toxic masculinity but the other way round. I suffered a lot with ‘finding myself’ David seemed so too because he’s been trying to hide his bisexuality since he was 13 and now works in an industry where you have to be either-or, not both, gay or straight.

Bi-curiously I lived through him, especially after he left with that dashing librarian-bearded man after the divorce. That’s why I had to seek my independence away from this city so I’ve always been in search, I still am. My stepdad understood this more than anyone, he wasn’t the most amazing husband but as a dad? he was my best friend. But of course, my mother’s inferiority complex would never let anyone else, either other than herself, feel more important.

My birth dad was always too busy. As an adult I get it, he had to work hard to prove 

his worth to an ungrateful being who found every wrong with others because she could never find the right in herself.

 That’s how I feel about myself too, except I don’t look for any wrong in others unless… they choose to show me but I still can’t feel that I’m exactly right where I need to be. Let’s just say, I’m still soul-searching for what connects all of me as one whole, hanging on to the belief that there more to my life than chasing.

 Being back here reminds me of that feeling of despair the feeling that made me leave the feeling of hopelessness

• My bath dad had just died
• My stepdad had run off one a man
• My boyfriend left me for my friend
• my best friend was based heavily and then out of the city moving feet like a bird

 I’ve always envied her, the ability to bloom anyway she’s planted even if it’s for a little while.  Lauren created her garden. As for sad old me, I relied on my stepdad, see… we were a lot alike. He spent his whole life pretending to be something else hiding parts of him that most people would not accept. Between his veteran father who shouted “you are such a pussy” casually and his alcoholic hippie mother who believed that love and light are all life is about until her bottle was empty again - he had learned to only share bits and pieces of himself that made others more comfortable around him.

 I supposed my mom loved him for this very reason, being considerate. I guess it was a good thing, plus it connected us even deeper because we both understood the burden, how much of a compromise it was to put someone else first, in our case common enemy my mother.

So I grew to hate it here, especially after he left, seemed like everyone is moving on what their lives and all I have is a human, either than me, that I have to prove myself to, it sucked. Hearing the words “you’re just like your father” all he ever did was play with instruments like a child.

Mom: when will you grow up and realize that people like us don't make it on their own

Me: what do you mean people like us? You are the city’s most respected businesswoman.

Mom: not always, I was also a young girl chasing but I had to go out because let anybody has time to play as your father did.

It hurts to hear those words at the time but I’m still not sure if that was an insult, I loved the idea of being like my dad, he was talented. 

As for the childlike part, well yes! It’s about freaking time I let the child in me express herself, how foolishness, playfulness, carelessness, and her untamed curiousness. Undeniably, that would be better than writing about keeping up the lawyer daughter image my relatives have imagined in my life thanks to my dearest mommy.

 It is going to come as a surprise to most of our relatives that I’m turning my mom's business into an arts center, of course, it will come as a surprise and I am not turning it into something corporate, something holy but a place of fun and mess. But I refuse to inherit her book store and let it change me just like it did my mother trying to live up to the expectations of her father. I spent too much time folding, silent, obeying that I missed out on the parts of me that make me, me. A painter!!!

 I think about the parties I missed, art exhibitions, the times I felt isolated even amongst my friends, who, come to think of it were actually Lauren’s friends… always wondered why she had so many friends but now I realize she needed the noise around to avoid the silence that eats her up when she’s alone. I reminisce of the guy I thought was my boyfriend just because the slightest friendliness to me seems like a courtship, the night I spent studying because I had a lot to live up to. I was the daughter of the first Businesswoman in the city, and everything I ought to be must represent strength resilience, and intelligence but I was just a teenager. I just wanted to live my life and as much as I thought I hated it here man I’m nice so that I came back. It could’ve been under better conditions but here I am, sitting beside my aunt, listening to more tales about her and mother dearest, what an icy blue Spruce candle on the nightstand feeling the room with homeliness, I like the smell on the ocean on an island with exotic flowers exciting yet comforting like coming home to your mom's favorite homemade meal, what parents hug after an emotionally draining day.

Aunt: you are so much like her, and she knew it that’s why get her so much to let you fly away.

Steph: I am nothing like her, she was stuck up, rude and manipulating.

Aunt: Clearly you do not know my sister as you should, she was fun and wild but seek approval from our absent dad. Since being the youngest she never really knew he was never worth sacrificing the best parts of herself.

Steph: I didn’t know, all this while I thought she blamed me and my dad for changing her life.

Aunt: that’s why she tried to call, she wanted to tell you herself that the bitterness wasn’t your fault.

This is the first place I saw art from a pop-up show by …. I still remember my excitement. And ditching a party with Lauren’s cool gang because when I was in that room with all those artists I felt both involved but yet comfortable alone, having a silent conversation with art.

When I got back home that day you said “I am so glad it was just a pop-up, you don’t need such distractions” And from that day I wanted to paint my life away, pain the garden you used to pick fresh flowers from every Sunday, the road filled with palm trees and an ocean view at the far end where dad taught me how to cycle.

The truth is Stephanie didn’t need to leave to find herself. The roots of her flower have always been in the soil of this city ready to blossom even though. All she had to do was remember that she Is all she needs to grow, truth is a mother can only do so much.

Today’s the day, I have no idea what I was going to say, I’ve been avoiding this moment, Busy playing the blame game but here is the day, now is the time. I sat in her car, watching my friends, her friends, 

cousins, Church mates, clients, and sister walk into the church and I sit with a pen in my hand the paper on my lap writing about each and every person that walked into that holy building not because I had anything to say about them but because I had everything to say her about them.

 Dear mom

 I am sorry that I have to so many years of being away from you this is how I get to finally see you, lying cold and still. When aunt Rita called I was relieved because I believed that you are a problem in my life, that you were the reason I never loved being here, when I was born and raised, wait everything I knew and loved was. 

But… you would have a problem I was, I never learned to ask the right questions, I did as I was told and looked out for everyone but myself I guess that’s why you thought I’ll be a good lawyer. You are right about one thing, I’ll always be my father’s daughter, I’ve always been a creative being, I love to paint, I love colors, I love creating art and no amount of money-making industry in this world we’ll change the fact that I have my father’s blood in my veins. As I do yours, aunt Rita of how much she loves to dance, how much it brought you joy and how much of a sacrifice it was for you to just dancing and via mom. maybe that’s why you hated that so much, he always did what he loved, struggling artist or not he’s passion was music and you dancing why he had to lose a part of himself to be a good dad. That’s why you loved David, he was convenient because he was raised to be a people please, to do what is right and what he’s told.

I wish you had spoken to mom, I wish you had explained to me why you are so angry, I would’ve never loved for you to be what you’re not just for me. I would’ve helped you make the bookstore into a place where every child in our town can escape to, a second home, a place to express themselves, a safe haven just as I wanted your arms to be.

And now I know, if I had not expected you to be the hero in my story while you have you had Lost control if you own. I would’ve learned to create my own reality, paint a Sunrise so beautiful it evoked my right brain and hung it where the heater blocked the window, I would’ve learned to speak up when I like someone, I would have not envied the life of my best friend who was trying to escape her own reality.  

But instead, I have childhood memories that make me feel like a traumatized adult when I say them out loud that made me toxic to anyone that tried to love me. Because I spend too long feeling like I’m not good enough because I couldn’t be like you and start a business from the ground up only to find you inherited that business and you, yourself were trying to live up to the expectations of a dead man you never really knew. It is something out of a love-hate story.

 It was at this moment, when is Stephanie became emotional for the first time since the 16th birthday she cried because of her mom not because she was hurt, disappointed, or numb but because she finally understood. 

It might have been too late but you got to say “it was never your fault, I love you, mom, I just misunderstood you, rest in peace, your legacy lives on”.

Love your flower!