been a long time gone
It’s stupid to cry in the school auditorium. Fat uncontrollable tears roll down my face, swell in my lashes, making my nose run and my face rumple despite my strong desire to not look like a blithering idiot at school. They are just so big, my children and my heart is too small to hold it all it. That wonder I feel needs to be spread around, it’s not good for you all concentrated like it is in my head and heart. There aren’t other people fighting over who is more proud of them, who they look like. It’s just me, inside my head.
It almost doesn’t seem real that I actually have children without my mother. There was no torch passed, no shared tears of amazement and joy at what I had created out of thin air inside my stomach with a man I had known for a long long time who loved me. There is no satisfaction in my job well done. I can’t look over my shoulder in that instant where you catch your child being spectacularly ordinary and wonderful and look at the person that watched that with me and in a flash I can transport her to the past with me in my plaid dress, sunburned cheeks, white ankle socks with black patent leather maryjanes. Its been 12 years this December since her eyes welled with tears and I pressed my face to hers around the ventilator, holding hands with her closest friends urging her to move on, that it was okay, she could go and not be in pain. I lied and said I was crying because I loved her and I lied and said I would be okay. I lied and said it would be okay but it wasn’t and it’s not. I always wanted more from my mother and feel selfish for not being satisfied by someone who gave me all she could.
So my eyes are all swollen and I feel stupid for crying while the whole 1-5th grade sings that insipid Black Eyed Peas song, waving their arms in the air, clapping and dancing around. Wishing my heart were bigger, that I was better, that I was more grateful, that I could be enough for my children, that I am doing it okay, that I am-okay-without the approval of any parents.
I remind myself that I am not alone because the magical creatures I made out of thin air inside my stomach love me and I can feel it deep inside, even when my heart feels too small to hold it all in. Its been a long time gone, a long time that I have been really on my own and my tears are bitter and shameful and pointless when I have so much.