https://thehauntedwordsmith.wordpress.com/2019/03/14/story-starter-challenge-12/
Prompt: “That really did not help.”
It’s burned in my memory
The last Christmas I spent
With mom, in her home.
She had an artificial tree
Which she assembled, but
She was too old, unstable
To climb up on step-stool…
I certainly didn’t want to be
Responsible if she fell…so
When it was time to put the
String of lights on, I stepped up.
I was a nervous wreck as soon
As she’d taken the tree from
The closet…we didn’t work well
Together. I couldn’t ever get
Things right…as in perfect…
To please her.
So I’m standing above, hands
Shaking as I wind the lights
Around…she’s supervising
Ready to pounce, criticize.
Some details of memory blur
But there’s sense-memory…
Feeling like I’m five, not 50-ish
And terrified of the ogre who is
Mom…a feeling which never
Changed, as long as she lived.
Terrified of what? Her quick-flicked
Anger, impatience, humiliations…
Ogre, and piranha.
Things proceeded tensely… I
Couldn’t glean her vision, nor
Follow her directions to get there.
My stress level climbed…images
Flew through my mind: of shoving
The tree over, and her… throwing
Myself through plate glass window
Where tree was always displayed.
Her voice rose…annoyance that
Her stupid daughter was incapable
Of simplest decorating task.
I wanted to suggest she call my
Sister, the daughter she preferred.
I wanted to sob like a baby, so
Hurt…and angry that she could
Still reduce me to quivering blob
Of useless human tissue, at my age.
I longed to ask, do you really
Think I can do a better job if
You keep hounding me?!!
But I said nothing…in my
Entire life, I doubt I’d spoken
True feelings to her a handful
Of times. It wasn’t as much
That I’d been taught Respect
As certainty of punishing
Reply: words that would
Decapitate my soul, leave it to
Bleed out…yet somehow
Maintain a pulse so I could
Relive pain for the rest of
My crippled, disfigured days.
I remained mute…somehow the
Tree got finished, whether or
Not to her full satisfaction.
I hate her, forgive her, hate her…
I didn’t attend her memorial
Service. When I received copy
Of her Will, I wasn’t surprised
To be disinherited…numbed to her
Rejections… And, what I wanted
She never had.
I thought her death would grant
Me “closure”…(empty term). But
“That really did not help.”
I can’t recall if I once loved her…
I only remember fearing her, and
Crying myself to sleep most of
My young life, heart shredded…
Needing her to love me.
©Ennle Madresan, 2019 ~ All rights reserved.
Image: Pixabay.com
