|Posted by graceofmyheart on March 31, 2012 at 2:05 AM|
I can see you were a woman, beautiful, but so fragile for a world where we can’t see an honest salesperson, a loving heart in a world where honesty where the forefathers of our country presumed it would always exist, a kind soul in an era where kindness is rewarded with a slap in the face. I talk to your Mama every day almost, and I pray each time my phone rings it’s her, because I have been given the gift of a glimpse of you. Her voice lifts when she talks of you, and even in your times of suffering–I won’t share what isn’t mine honey-because I aready know the hailstorm, or part of it, you had to have been through.
While most of this world speaks of times of suffering, they cannot imagine a lifetime of it, can they? They can’t understand when you meet someone and invite them in-maybe let them sleep on your couch, you go to bed, and while you sleep, you are taken advantage of–not in that way: they steal what isn’t theirs to take. Your cable TV bill shows up, and while you can barely remember what they look like, you remember how of all your cats-all of them slept in your room while you slumbered unknowingly. Your bill is $120 more than normal, and not understanding why, you call the cable company, and your eyes drop to titles of movies you would never have ordered for the kinds of movies you have only heard about-your mama protected you from that. But isn’t it horrible that the one thing a mother-no real mother would want for their child is pain.
But it’s the one thing no mama can protect her baby from-whether she realizes it or not. Every mother sees her child, and wants nothing but “Sugar and spice and everything nice,” while the world today sees sugar and spice as something to sell and the rest as a joke or something to laugh at. But I hear the ache in your mother’s voice: a child like you can’t be replaced anymore than when a mother’s child takes her dead bird to her Daddy and asks him to make it sing again, he can’t do it either, as much as he wants to, because he sees his beautiful daughter, and wanting to protect her from the ultimate thief, he is always out there, isn’t he? I know physical pain, I know what it’s like to try and keep it at bay with doctors, medicine, procedures and my kitty cats bring me my smiles…I had to learn to replace what I didn’t have with what lay within me.
And even with having the same high, highs, riding that roller coaster, being in that constant amusement park, it faded for me, and I set a timer, and much as I detest them, I continue the medicine and once in a whie, I go to my doctor–or irony of ironies, we talk on Skype. And a very few people I trust, that have proven they cann be-your Mama is one that I keep closest, and like that first pet you looked to daddy to fix, and to make sing-whose song had been silenced: your fragility came from somewhere.