Who is this strange being nurturing me?

I cannot see farther than a couple of inches,

Yet I can feel her warmth.

The support that exudes from her pores,

The love that wraps around me,

This creature is more than just one of the same.

More than the variety of hands that pick me up,

More than the different faces I see,

More than the “goo-goo-ga-ga’s.”



At this point, she is my rock.

My anchor.

My everything.

My home, for “home”

Holds no meaning,

Without her there.




Elementary



That woman who used to be a foreign, yet familiar
creature,

Is now one that I adore.

In fact, I have allotted her a name:

Mommy.



Mommy, tie my shoes.

Mommy, make me breakfast.

MOMMY, WHERE’S MY TOYS.



And yet, she smiles.

Her eyes,

Twinkling with delight and a spark of life,

Look to me, and then tells me she loves me.

Returning the gaze, I lean over, grab her cheeks and kiss them.

Pulling away, I say, ever so smugly,

“I love you too, Mommy.”



And then I jump off the sofa and sprint away.

“Honey, your toys!”

Yet I run outside,

chasing the prospect of friends

rather than staying indoors.




At this point, she is MY girl.

Sorry Daddy, move aside.

No other girl is this nice to me.

Ammamma is a close second,

but Mommy is still super duper awesome.

(Besides, girls have cooties so ewie).



Teenage~ Growing Years



Now, Mommy has turned into Mom.

(Maybe a more colloquial, “Ma”)

But the youthful, playful moniker of

Mommy

Has faded.

“Mom, what the hell!”

“Ma, I knowwww. Just shut up already.”

“Mom, quit nagging, I’ll do this later.”

“Ma, holy s*** stop, I get it!”



What happened to the boy?

The young, adoring child.

The same child that inspired the twinkle in her eyes?

The child that would return her “I love you”s at will.


Alas, the boy grew up.


I see her more as an equal

Than the superwoman that would brighten up my afternoons,

Take time to play with me,

And love me.

I am cognizant of the love.

I do realize that she has my best interests.

Yet, for some strange reason, they do not make sense.

The words she says,

The nags she persists,

They amalgamate to this sea of nuisances.



In response,

I shut myself out.

I find isolation in my room

I find comfort in my bed

And I find myself….

Sleeping.



Ah, the sleep world is different from the real world.

Here, I find myself on adventures.

Here, I find solace in strangers.

Here, I have found my escape in reality.


Yet, it is incomplete.

For here, there is no love.

There is no Mommy tending to me.

There is no Mom to yell at, and then apologize to.

And so while this dream world may be fun,

My heart longs for reality.



I wake up.

In a search for my mother, I push my brother out of the way.

I neglect to turn on the lights.

And I barge into my mother’s room and sit down.


After she wakes up, I embrace her in a hug and utter,

Three words,

Eight letters:



I love you.



Bewildered, she takes a minute to respond.

Her instinct is to ask if I have maintained my sanity.

To ask if anything is wrong with me.



Now it is my turn to take a minute to respond.

Have I become this detached,

This separated,

That an act of affection elicits bewilderment?

That what was once norm

Is anything but?



My minute is over.

I look back into her eyes.

I think tears well, but I pay no mind.



No.



And then I return to my room,

Plunge myself back into the dream world,

And wait for reality to come back in the morning.


Despite this self-revelation,

Things don’t change.

Mild animosity and an abundance of sarcasm

Have replaced love and affection.

Soon, the younger brother buys into it.

Granted, love still persists.

But we choose a different way to express it.



Under our hard shells,

Beneath the shrill screams,

Hidden behind the plethora of curses,

And wedged in between the disparaging remarks,

There is love.





At this point, my mother is strength.

Despite the verbal abuse thrown at her

By this ungrateful teenage amalgam of hormones


And frustration

And stress

And dreams,

She persists.

She is my supporter,

My believer,

My unappreciated number one.



So, you strange creature you,

Mother,

Mommy,

Mom,

Ma,

Despite what crap I throw your way

I love you.