Inheritance

Mothers (A Mother's Day Special)

I am in need of rehabilitation; I am a monster in the making, and I have locked myself in with death itself in an effort to do something just and good with my life.

As I sit in the middle of this grim, red place, I feel the need to write of my mothers—both biological and surrogate. I think contemplating the people who have influenced me in life will help me figure out how I ended up where I am.

Mothers are complicated people. There is no one who shapes who you are better than a mother; there is no one you want to please more than a mother.

One of my mothers gave me everything I am made up of. She gave me my white skin, she gave me my yellow hair, she gave me my rosy eyes... She gave me this evil thing that festers inside of me—this thing I can barely fight.

My other mother gave form to this shape that my biological mother had given me; she had tried to mold something that the eye cannot see—something that exists apart from those things you are born with.

The first thing she did was teach me manners.

She taught me how to bow, how to apologize, how to thank, and how to respect those who are not Arrozan.

I remember being a brat back when Kori first took me to the tower that would be my home for the next twelve years. I remember treating her like Arrozans were supposed to treat their servants; like they were nothing at all.

Kori soon bred that tendency out of me.

After she taught me manners, she taught me 'no'.

Before Kori, I never had someone older than me get down to my eye-level, wave a finger in my face, and tell me I was being rude and I would get quiet time unless I stopped yelling.

I resented her at first. I missed my parents and my brother and how they spoiled me and gave me everything I wanted. I hated her discipline, I hated her judgement, and I hated the confines that she had imposed on my behavior and my surroundings.

The third thing she taught me was something that was incredibly hard for me to grasp.

The difference between right and wrong.

"If another child takes your teddy bear from you, how do you get it back?" Kori would ask.

"I would have the guard throw them in the dungeon." I would answer.

Kori would frown and tell me, "no, Eory. The correct thing to do would be to ask for it back, and if they still don't give it back, you should ask an adult to get it back for you."

Soon, I memorized all the answers to the moral dilemmas posed to me, but I didn't comprehend right and wrong still.

It took much longer for me to fully comprehend right and wrong instead of just parroting back to Kori what she wanted to hear.

It happened in a way I didn't expect.

I had begun to thoroughly enjoy Kori's company at some point; all I wanted was her praise and approval. I did everything she wanted me to do to get it.

I was polite, I met all her deadlines for my homework, and I always kept my room clean to impress her.

In return, Kori gave me praise, hugs, and spent lots of time with me.

Even though I didn't precisely understand right and wrong, I did understand naughty and nice.

I understood that when I was being naughty (interrupting Kori, making faces at her, or insulting her), I got into trouble.

But there was one situation in which I had not been naughty at all, and I still got punished.

I had gotten a little bit too excited when Kori visited me at the tower one day; I wanted to show her my homework because I thought I had done exceptionally well on it.

I had forgotten my manners and didn't bow to her when she entered my room as she required. Instead, I threw my arms around her and waved my homework excitedly.

She had looked at me coldly, told me my mistake, and cut her visit short that day as a punishment.

That was when I truly comprehended right and wrong.

I knew it was wrong for her to be so cruel to me at such a slight offense.

For once, I understood what it felt like to be wronged; I understood what all those people who my ancestors had wronged felt, and I understood the evil Kori had done me...

And I began to truly understand the evil that festered within me—the evil Kori had been trying to warn me about.

But without that evil action, Kori would never have been able to give such shape to my morals and principles.

That's why mothers are so complicated.

They can love you and give you everything and still be evil people. But they can also love you, do evil things to you, and be great people.

My biological mother may have shaped my body, but it was Kori who had attempted to shape my soul.

That's what makes a mother.