I learned from your history to appreciate your strength.
Your ability to persevere.
To define your own future.
I sought to forgive your mistakes.
I sought to learn and forget.
To understand your decisions,
even if it was a wine bottle over my safety.
I tried to understand why you said you couldn’t leave.
Why it wouldn’t be smart after opening a business with him.
Mama, I know you hate me asking you the same questions, but as I walk through the halls and run my hand over the fresh drywall put in place to cover up last night’s argument,
Loud threats and the clinking of glass bottles is a sound that now forever haunts my mind.
Mama, it’s late and I can’t sleep, but the monster I’m scared of isn’t under my bed, he’s watching television in the living room.
I’m trying to understand mama, why do you let him talk to you like that?
Why don't you stand up for yourself as you taught me to do?
I hate that we are so different.
I didn’t think we were supposed to be.
Mama, I never meant to make things worse.
I didn't mean to make things harder for you.
I didn't know the sirens would anger him.
All I knew was that your scars angered me.
Mother, I'm much older now
I'm no longer your little girl.
You fought your battles with bottles, and now I must fight mine with pills.
I'm still learning not to tremble at loudly shutting doors.
I'm still learning to slow my breathing when you tell me you're running to the store.
But mother I'm older now and we fight a lot more.
You said you never understood me and this is the same as before.
It hurts to look at you because I see my face in yours.
Mother, please forgive me, for as of now I am hardly yours.