(no subject)
the time has come for me to tell you that my mom is sick. my mommy is so very, very sick. and to anyone who is reading this, i tell you it in sadness but thankfully not depression. i am sorry to the people that i didn't tell earlier--my best friends, the ones who are so close to me. i thought before that my mother's illnesses were a thing of the past; something that i wouldnt have to worry about for a very long time. well, again my mom is drained of color and energy, of smiles and warmth.
my dad called me from an out of town trip to tell me about this, mainly because my mom couldn't (or didnt want to) tell me about it. he asked what i knew, and i knew nothing, so he said, "your mother has cancer again, and i'm afraid that it's not good. there are spots in her spine and half of her pelvis, all bone cancer." well, marco was at my house at the time and my mom was close by, so i saved my emotions for later. eventually i told marco but i never told anyone else. i didnt tell my teachers especially, because i don't like it when they are easier on me than other students. so here it is now, my sad secret.
i knew i was in trouble just five minutes ago, when she walked her baby-walk to me, with her weak legs teeter-totting forward and her arms outstretched towards me, ready for a hug. she'll get close, close enough for me to wrap around her skeleton, tower over her head, and rub her painfully arched back. this is the place where i see her, this is the place where i can't escape, this is the place where i have to come face to face with my worst enemy, what i pretend doesnt exist--my mother's worsening state. i see it in her face, in the light purple shade around her eyes.
i saw a shirt yesterday that read, "the worst day in anything is better than the best day in school," and thought it was very clever, and almost agreed...but then i remembered the small figure that i hug every night and the words "i'll get better" in the faintest of voices, and think of how spoiled the wearer of this tshirt must be.
so i end here, in this wide open space. i don't know what will come, or not come. all i can think to myself is, "i wonder what the children in liberia are dreaming of right now..." and this provides me with much comfort.
my dad called me from an out of town trip to tell me about this, mainly because my mom couldn't (or didnt want to) tell me about it. he asked what i knew, and i knew nothing, so he said, "your mother has cancer again, and i'm afraid that it's not good. there are spots in her spine and half of her pelvis, all bone cancer." well, marco was at my house at the time and my mom was close by, so i saved my emotions for later. eventually i told marco but i never told anyone else. i didnt tell my teachers especially, because i don't like it when they are easier on me than other students. so here it is now, my sad secret.
i knew i was in trouble just five minutes ago, when she walked her baby-walk to me, with her weak legs teeter-totting forward and her arms outstretched towards me, ready for a hug. she'll get close, close enough for me to wrap around her skeleton, tower over her head, and rub her painfully arched back. this is the place where i see her, this is the place where i can't escape, this is the place where i have to come face to face with my worst enemy, what i pretend doesnt exist--my mother's worsening state. i see it in her face, in the light purple shade around her eyes.
i saw a shirt yesterday that read, "the worst day in anything is better than the best day in school," and thought it was very clever, and almost agreed...but then i remembered the small figure that i hug every night and the words "i'll get better" in the faintest of voices, and think of how spoiled the wearer of this tshirt must be.
so i end here, in this wide open space. i don't know what will come, or not come. all i can think to myself is, "i wonder what the children in liberia are dreaming of right now..." and this provides me with much comfort.