When A Mother Leaves

A childhood memory that remained dormant for decades and how the memory left a young girl with emptiness and an ability to cope with life's disappointments.

When A Mother Leaves

By Carol Crismond

 

When did it happen, the first time in the pit of your stomach,

a sick churning inside knowing something bad is happening.

How old was I, maybe five, no matter it was my first feeling of fear.

My head is going to erupt and explode.

 

My mother leaving me behind going back to her home.

But I thought I was her home.

No hand reaching out telling me to get my hat and coat.

Not looking me in the eye, to say bye.

No hug, no kiss, no tears, just a mumbled goodbye.

 

Just me and dad frozen silently watching her walk away.

Standing at the 3^rd story window seeing her familiar walk.

This time, rushing down the street below.

Suitcase in hand quickly treading through the snow

As if she was rushing to catch the train howling below.

 

I remember, I was five and not realizing then

My memory was a protective shield choosing to be blank.

Questions, missing pieces to the puzzle.

The blurry remembrance of abandonment is vivid.

Never could remember when she stormed out.

How long she was gone, or when she returned.

 

My only five-year old memory was sadness, and emptiness.

A walking shell of a child, traveling through my city streets.

 

Overcoming my motherless circumstance,

created strength by erasing what was and,

switching to adapt to a child’s free-range preservation.

Shielding myself from asking, will she be coming home?

Instead going to school, to church, to the 3^rd floor apartment,

a refuge, sanctuary known only to the strong girl in apartment 6.

 

Life has a way of storing the harsh realities, safely tucked away,

until, one day, your memory is shocked suddenly into the truth.

Vivid flashbacks, crashing full force, remembering the past.

 

Seventy years pass, yet a clear view of the kitchen three stories up.

The fog lifts from my memory bank, clear vision of the three of us.

Surroundings pink and grey kitchen, torn linoleum, dishes in the sink.

Laundry hanging from the wash line outside, blowing in the wind.

Frozen in time and place.

This time the pain, fear, and disappointment are real as we three appear,

disturbingly face to face.

 

Yes, decades have passed, and now I cry at last.

Every detail, even words, but now, still asking why?

Mom and dad have passed leaving me with blank spaces of emptiness.

I grew up silent and being silenced, invisible.

                                               

Time passes neither of us speaks at the dinner table, we eat and move

quickly to our space, for me my hiding place, still silent.

The return of Mom six months later, was like a deflated party balloon.

 

Waiting for words, as “love you from here to the moon”.

She said, “how is school”, “did you do your homework today”?

I walk to my room sit on the bed put the story book record on.

Snow White sings and dances then magically,

I become her �" dancing and singing, beautiful and happy, and loved.

Sadness lingers, do parents ever say the words “I’m sorry”?

Author's Note

Words from my memoir that I am working on focusing on a child's dysfunctional experiences and how I coped.