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RachelMarie

United States

~Christian~
~Home schooler~
~Competitive Forensic Debater~
~Late Victorian Wannabe~
~Reader of Old Books~
~Romantic~
~Dreamer~
~Old Soul~
~Child~

Message from Writer

I want to make a difference for my first love: Jesus Christ.

It is not how much we have, but how much we enjoy that makes happiness. ~Charles Spurgeon

There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside of you. ~Maya Angelou

If you eliminate the impossible, you than can consider the improbable. ~Sherlock Holmes

A Memory with a Ransom Note

June 10, 2019

FREE WRITING

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They whisper "Hush Hush" when her name surfaces.  

"Today is today" they tell me. "That was years ago. 
Release the pain. It's time to move on." 

Years ago only makes it more vivid. 
They ignore her legacy,
her part in me.
In my brothers.
In my sister.

"You have a new mother."
"I bet you're so happy."

"What a cute baby!"
"What a beautiful family!"

But does anyone see the ghost of her standing behind us?
How can they ignore her presence in every inch of our house?

How can they expect us to forget on the drop of a pin?

"They were so young, poor things."
"It's so sad, I bet they won't remember her."

It seems now that they are the ones forgetting.
We are keeping her memory alive.
Secretly.
So that they don't have an emotional breakdown.

"They haven't had enough time to adjust."
"They don't need me, they need to hold on."
"I'm leaving, you need more time to mourn."

No, you need more time to grow up.
Can't you see?
We need a new mother,
but one who will let us remember,
not feel insecure about a dead person.

She's just pictures and papers in a box now.
To anyone else, she's just a memory.
A forgotten part of history.
A stepping stone so that they can reap our family for their own. 

The memories are festering in the closet.
Disintegrating in the albums.
Her wedding dress is turning yellow.
And we can't take it out to admire it
for fear of being found out.

I can't add pictures of my birth mother holding me to my bedroom wall
where all of the other memories hang. 
How I want to.
But if she sees it,
she'll lock herself in her room, 
and I won't see my dad or her till noon tomorrow. 

I have to hide in the closet to resurface the remembrance video.
And I can't show it to my brother because he will cry.
and she can't handle it. 
He's forgetting her. 
Because she won't let him remember. 

My mother is now a ghost in the closet,
consisting of papers and pictures in a box. 
A locked up treasure.
A memory with a ransom note. 





 

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  • June 10, 2019 - 5:04pm (Now Viewing)

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