To describe my mother would be to write about a hurricane in its perfect power. Or the way the sun hits your skin on an empty beach. I would have to write about the sounds leaves make in the forest when the wind blows, and the color of a bright day behind closed eyes. I would have to tell you how it feels in a dark, cramped cabinet, and how it feels when the storm blows over. I would have to tell you how a starry night expands beyond its horizons, and play for you the sound of a pool on a sunny day as the water sparkles. To describe my mother would fill pages of books no one would understand, because they do not know. To describe my mother would be impossible. I would have to tell you the way coffee smells, and the way snow burns my fingertips. I would write about the distant sound of a turning page and a beating heart. I would tell you of an anger all to myself, and of a love so great it could not be drowned under the weight of my mistakes. I have made many mistakes.
To describe my mother would be to taste drywall and hear a hammer. To describe my mother would be to write of someone who cares deeply. To describe my mother would be to tell you of pretty brown eyes and a mind full of thoughts. Of so much more than that. To describe my mother would be to pour tears of bitterness, and blood. To describe my mother would be to take the weight of my disappointment of my chest and carve a hollow wherein nothing lies. To describe my mother would be to hear the screaming of so many fights. To describe my mother would be to destroy the world and still remain standing. To describe my mother would be to tell of the cold sting of a tile against my face and dried tears on my cheeks.
To describe my mother would be like falling asleep.
To describe my mother would be like burning.
To describe my mother would be as easy as breathing.
And as simple as pain.
As nothing else.
YOU ARE READING
Not me. (2023)
Short Storyso, I've been struggling for a long time now, and I never told anyone about it. I've never opened up. but I met someone who understands how I feel, and I'm beginning to feel again. I don't know how to do it, but I finally feel I can fight. I've been...
