A Mother's Inspiration
Waking up in a room, with one bed. My brother and I were in sleeping bags on the floor. The bathroom was straight ahead in the hotel which never felt like home, but it was all we had left. The mini fridge is empty like my 12-year-olds current self-esteem. Defeated like my mother appeared and lately seemed. I was as broken as the rope she recently cut from around my neck. I felt as weak as the bar my body was hanging from, almost at an indefinite rest.
Walking into a room filled with members of a secret group. Me thinking of course my mom needs to share about all the different places today, that her children's trauma brought her to. Her burning desire was about me. I sat there wishing why didn't she just leave me be. I'm tired of this sad life. We barely have the means to live and get by, yet Mom ends her share with but by the grace of God, I am sober and alive. I never understood that and those meetings. Now as I get older I know they were the reason that kept her from leaving.
As an adult, I look back at all those times. I always see my mother, strong with her head held high, even when she felt low. So when I think about the things I have had to go through to get to where I am, I always recall those memories and remember if she can do it, I too can.
Copyright © Sierra Mazzucca | Year Posted 2023
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