Blessings

“You had better not run away with him and get married.” My mother warned. She was sewing something Christmas themed, even though it was March. Lately my mom had been trying her best to complete tasks she hasn’t had time for. Finishing her stitchery and working on lawn chairs. Cleaning out the kitchen and getting framed pictures on the walls. And yet the garland was still on the porch outside.

                “I wouldn’t rob you of that.” I said. “I know how much you want a wedding for one of your daughters.”

                “You’re damn right!” she said, taking a moment to fight off Armani, who was trying to steal string from her lap. “But it’s more than that. If you leave with him, you’ll never come back. I won’t see you again until my funeral!”

                “Mom, I told you I wanted to move far away. I said how about Australia and you said ‘go for it!’.”

                “That’s because I knew you’d never do it.”

I laughed and she did too, but it felt like a knife to my heart. All my crazy rants I’ve had since I was a child might have been crazy and farfetched, and some were thought to be forgotten, but they were still my dreams and I had every intention of making them come true. My mother didn’t believe in me. And my father didn’t care about my relationships.

                “I’m not 12 anymore.” I said.

                “I know, but in my eyes you’ll always be a child.” It wasn’t that I’d be a child in her eyes because I was her baby – her youngest most innocent daughter – but that I’d always be a child because I was incapable to being an adult. I might wear power ranger pajamas or be obsessed with Thunderbirds and still enjoy Pokemon, but I work myself to death and pay my own bills. Half the reason I’m in Criminal Justice was because she said she was proud of me. “MY daughter, a police officer!” it was all the reassurance I needed.

                “Mom, I’m trying to be able to talk to you about this stuff.” I pleaded. She grew serious and smiled lightly.

                “I know, hun, it’s just too soon to get excited. I won’t worry about it until he’s in our kitchen.”

At that point it’ll be too late. I’ll already be gone.