My birth mother is in Melbourne.
I'm in a very complex place when we meet. It's not bad, just strange. A room full of assorted lifetime bric-a-brac. Birthday photos that were never taken at birthday parties never held. Wardrobes and chests full of other lives that weren't. A sense that we are both still trying to find a sure footing, as if the floor is covered in marbles.
Down the far end of the room, it gets darker. There's an open door, beyond it's black. I don't know what's out there, whether it's bad, whether it even leads anywhere. Perhaps it's a black wall. Perhaps it's a vast unending purgatory full of screaming voices and unresolvable illogic that would throw my switch and leave me gibbering in a padded cell somewhere.
I'm not strong enough to peer through yet. Still balancing, arms out wide.
Tonight I'll take her to see jazz.
Monday Message Board
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13 hours ago
2 comments:
Sounds like a plan.
Just ride the wave. See where it takes you both.
I hope she is one of the 99% of relinquishing mothers who did it for the benefit of the infant. She has cried a river for the loss of you, which may render her speechless in your presence. She wants to ask about every minute of your life, but feels she has no right to. She loves you.
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