Challenge #37: Quick Fic Amnesty
She looks at me searchingly. I know what she hopes to find; she hopes to see her fears calmed and her dreams realized. Every morning, she wants me to whisper to her niceties and solutions to problems that really aren't problems at all.
But I don't have the power to deliver those things; I can't offer her anything beyond what she sees. Looking deep into my face, she only sees her reflection, a factual representation of her beautiful face, and nothing more reflected on my glass surface.
I see in her face that she's finally had enough. She has finally realized my blunt honesty is all she will ever receive from me. Rather than understand and accept that that is what she needs, that no one else sees what she sees, she throws her shoe at me and I shatter in response.
She was well aware that she wasn't going to win any parenting awards, but she'd done everything she could to keep them safe. That counted, right?
She wasn't always sure of the answer to that question. Sure, they were safe; they were unharmed and in good physical health. But, at the same time, their lives had been full of turmoil. Their childhoods were disrupted by her crazy antics and she couldn't help but wonder how differently they might have turned out had they been given the life she had wanted to give them.
She wasn't sure if she could ever be the mother they needed. Truth be told, she wasn't sure she wanted to be. They were good boys--strong, capable men--but it often felt as if they had become that in spite of her rather than because of her. Maybe she'd ruin the life they'd managed to salvage.
But I don't have the power to deliver those things; I can't offer her anything beyond what she sees. Looking deep into my face, she only sees her reflection, a factual representation of her beautiful face, and nothing more reflected on my glass surface.
I see in her face that she's finally had enough. She has finally realized my blunt honesty is all she will ever receive from me. Rather than understand and accept that that is what she needs, that no one else sees what she sees, she throws her shoe at me and I shatter in response.
She was well aware that she wasn't going to win any parenting awards, but she'd done everything she could to keep them safe. That counted, right?
She wasn't always sure of the answer to that question. Sure, they were safe; they were unharmed and in good physical health. But, at the same time, their lives had been full of turmoil. Their childhoods were disrupted by her crazy antics and she couldn't help but wonder how differently they might have turned out had they been given the life she had wanted to give them.
She wasn't sure if she could ever be the mother they needed. Truth be told, she wasn't sure she wanted to be. They were good boys--strong, capable men--but it often felt as if they had become that in spite of her rather than because of her. Maybe she'd ruin the life they'd managed to salvage.