Mom's Poem

I walked home in shame. This was it. Surely, my mom would kill me now. I had failed at everything. I was a failure.1

The Andover Apartments sign flashed in the afternoon sunlight as I entered the building. I looked up the stairs, my body full of dread. Yeah, this was it. This was the end of the peace, all right. I clomped up the stairs, smelling crackers and juicy juice… classic yucky apartment smells. I hate that smell. It reminds me way to much of the station wagon trips with my mom. Believe it or not, these are bad memories. Nearly all memories involving my mom are bad. And oh god, I had a feeling I was about to create another.2

“Lacey, is that you?” A woman shouted as I opened the door.3

“Yes mom, it’s me. I’m home,” I yelled back.4

“You got your report card today, didn’t you? Bring it in! I want to see it!”5

There was absolutely no sense in arguing. I walked into the living room, dragging my feet. I looked on the coach and saw her, looking especially worn today. There was a beer bottle beside her. She’d been drinking. That was going to make it worse. Feet propped on the coffee table; she reached up for the paper in my hand. As her eyes scanned the paper, her face clouded over. I was about to burst.6

“ I see two ‘C’s. I’m assuming this isn’t a mistake. Damn, Lacey, I expected better of you! She said.7

“I’m sorry, mom, They’re in Algebra 2 and Biology, two classes I really didn’t understand. It’s been a horrible year,” I tried to reason.8

“I don’t care! You know, I always thought you were lazy! Now it really shows! This year was worthless if this is all you have to show! Just go away, okay? I don’t wan’t to see you!”9

Oh I was so close to crying… but I’d never ever cry in front of my mom. Never. I just ran out of the room and down the tiny hall. It seemed to close in on me and I stumbled through the first door I came to. There I dropped to the floor and sat with my eyes closed, trying not to cry.10

When I looked up I saw I was in the bathroom. Looking around I saw all the familiar bathroom things that have been in here forever, it seems. My pink striped beach towel, the blue fuzzy bath mat, the light pink porcelain toilet. Ahh… nice… and quite. Finally I have found a room my mothers anger cannot reach, I thought. 11

Across from me was the bathtub. On a whim I crawled into its now dry, cool basin and sat there, fully clothed, with no water running. I remembered how on a youth group overnight trip we’d all fought over who got to sleep in the bathtub, just for the heck of it. I was so happy when we finally did rock paper scissors and I won. To tell the truth it was really uncomfortable and I barely slept. But it was fun, because I, I, was sleeping in the bathtub! That was a good memory. I like good memories. Slowly I calmed down and stopped hiccuping. After all those years my mom didn’t hurt me as much. I had built a nice little wall around me that worked quite well. 12

After a good bathtub sitting I got out and looked around the sink counter. I was still so mad at my mom, but I knew I’d be okay. I just didn’t feel like coming out yet. As I was searching the counter for something interesting I came across my moms purse. Why it was in the bathroom, I don’t know, but I decided to explore it and see if there was anything that would humanize my mom. A newspaper clipping, a little uplifting story, maybe.13

When I opened her wallet a piece of paper fell out and fluttered daintily to the tile floor. Stooping to pick it up, I saw it was plain note book paper with a few lines of scribbled writing in ink. I sat down and read it…14

Diane,15

I wanted to say how much I care16

How I’ll always be there17

And I’ll never go away18

I love you to much to hurt you this way.19

You are the light of my life20

And it all feels so right21

I love every little bit of you22

And know you feel this way to.23

Love,24

Henry25

Okay. This was a love poem. I’d seen these before. Heck, a few had even been written to me. But what scared me was this was for my MOM. My mom. Some guy had loved MY MOM? A lot? 26

All of a sudden I started. I knew that name... Henry... it was familiar. Its was... my dads name. The same dad who left my mom and be when i was born. The same dad who I had only found out about because of my neighbor. The same dad who my mom never, EVER, talked about, no matter what. 27

They had been in love. He'd assured her he'd never leave. And he did. Sounds a lot like some of my past experiences with guys. 28

Maybe my mom has been hurt too. Maybe... just maybe... my mom could love after all...29