Moments in San Francisco

Not every mother and daughter in the best relationships, I am one of them and it is harder for me not to be able to be close to her. I think, she may be narcissistic or something else.

 

 

Mother’s Day is seven days from today.

Your face appears. 

I see you and I stand still. 

You look young, around twenty five.

In a maxi dress, you look beautiful

With long dark brown hair.

 

Mamita, wish I knew you better

When I was just a baby;

Therefore I could understand you today.

 

Six days away,

In San Francisco, I was in the swinging.

I was pushed, oh how I loved the height

And saw all over the world

And I only saw you.

 

Mamita, you looked so happy that day. 

 

Five days away,

As a little girl, drew something,

Run, and found you.

Raised my hand with the paper,

Waited till I saw you smile. 

I was picked up,

And held with your warmth.

 

Mamita, aren’t you proud of your artist daughter?

 

Four days away,

I grew up being in my own world

Where it was just silence

But there was only the voice

When you came home.

I watched you being exhausted

And I could feel your worry

For a few pounds of my weight,

But you didn’t realize that

I had no fear of living alone.

I had you and myself.

 

Mamita, at least I got home before the curfew

And I am fed.

Here, I am ready for the day

Of your story.

 

Three days away,

Our opinions grew stronger and oppositely,

Our cultures, our differences were complicated,

Even harder to get my voice heard

Or maybe it was just me? 

So I watched you and your every move.

Your wrinkles appeared,

Your eyes became stronger

And I became the invisible person. 

 

Mamita, you probably began to wonder if I ever loved you.

And I wondered the same.

 

Two days away,

I had become a mother,

I had understood you in bits and bits.

You had become a different person.

Time flew by fast and I think

I had missed where you left

As the mother I knew

But yet I still made sure

That you felt beautiful in every age,

And that you were important.

 

Mamita, even after countless of arguments,

Did you, deep down, know that I am a good person?

Perhaps a good daughter?

 

Today is the Mother’s Day,

Again I see your face appeared

At twenty five and I am thirty two. 

I have questions hovering all over my head.

It pains me to tell you everything what I feel

Because you are not the same, I realize;

But in the spirit of us standing right here,

Reaching your young hand, and

Looking at your bright brown eyes.

 

Mamita,

Before you say something,

Before your time comes up,

Before tomorrow you may forget,

This may confuse you,

But please remember this moment,

In any distances, I am always here by spirit.

In your tears, think bad things, just don’t.

I will be always the same daughter,

But the opposite version of yourself,

And my heart is bigger than

The universe, only for you. 

I want you to be knowledge and

Try to find a way

To understand me;

That I am proud of

Being me

No matter how they happen in

Life. 

But if you cannot,

Please remember this only moment,

When I am not heard,

being disappeared again doesn’t mean

I stopped loving you. 

I am in my silence world, remembering you all over again

In the beginning of our lives together in San Francisco

And I missed you.

 

I love you, always will.

 

Happy Mother’s Day. 

 

2013

Author's Note

My writing may not be poetic, just the expression of my emotion.
Thank you.

Reviews

[Constance Payne]

"Mamita, you probably began to wonder if I ever loved you.
And I wondered the same."

These words are so telling. I have often wondered if I made my mom proud in my life and if she loved me for who I was.

Very nicely written and in my way of thinking where there is emotion there is poetry.

[MFAtkinson]

thank you! :)