18

She turned 18 on Mother’s Day, the years flash by;

I compare my way of being a mother to those who seem to be superhuman.

I never was, unless you count getting two degrees and working full-time, but even then the guilt of time spent away from her eats at me.

A mother’s guilt doesn’t cease. I take introspection to the level of penance with lashes upon my back.

I was never the soccer or PTA mom, she was lucky if I checked her homework.

I lived in my many addictions while getting them treated for her sake; generational trauma passed on down with her as a victim.

I was once too, but where does it end? I did my best to break cycles while creating new ones.

I love her. That’s what I know and have known with an indescribable depth since she was born. I was young and afraid and had no clue, but I knew she meant the world to me and still does.

If she felt that and still does, then maybe I’ve done my job after all.

Emily C. Poesie © 2021

3 Comments Add yours

  1. Two beautiful ladies smiling towards me. Congrats to your daughter.🥰🥰

    Liked by 1 person

      1. Keep growing your positive spirit.😊

        Like

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