Blue Ink on Paper
Mom
Mom. I love you. You are the best mom I could have ever asked for. But you are no longer here.
You left me so much. You left me money for me to buy an apartment. You left me your journals, your clothes, your scrapbooks.
Mom. I remember when we went to the beach when I was six years old. You wore your long dark hair in a bun. You were embarrassed about your overweight body, so you kept your cover-up on the entire time. I remember I wanted to be just like you. You hadn't eaten all day, just smoked cigarettes and drank coffee. So I skipped breakfast too, and sipped my lemonade.
I waded into the ocean holding your hand. You told me, "Hold on tight to me, my sweetheart, and you won't fall." I was scared, and the water felt too cold, but I knew how to swim, and I trusted you. The waves were strong, but we were stronger.
Dad died when I was little. I cried but was too young to fully understand. All I remember is that you couldn't handle it. For a year all you wore was black, and you spent most of your time sobbing in bed. Then it seemed you wanted to move on. I watched you put on makeup and dresses that hid your figure. You dated around, but none of the relationships lasted longer than two or three months. Then you would break up with them. The men you dated were all very handsome, very intelligent, very kind. I felt angry that you kept breaking their hearts.
I remember the last note you wrote to me. I was living with you at 18 years old, and things were not looking up for us. I desperately wanted to move out. Your depression had gotten so bad, you had stopped eating and were now underweight. I was underweight too. My bingeing and purging happened in secret, because when I was with you we just smoked and drank black coffee. No food went into my mouth in front of her.
Outside it rained, and I remember you slipped a note under my bedroom door. It read:
My sweet daughter,
I am so grateful to have you. Thank you for the conversation this morning. I really feel like we are a lot alike, and I hope for you that you find happiness. I'm sorry I am so depressed. Please forgive me. I love you so much, more than words can express.
I was wondering if you could run to the store for me and pick up some sunflowers to brighten the room.
Love,
Mom
I ran to the store, and when I came back you were hanging from the dining room chandelier.
You left me so much. You left me money for me to buy an apartment. You left me your journals, your clothes, your scrapbooks.
Mom. I remember when we went to the beach when I was six years old. You wore your long dark hair in a bun. You were embarrassed about your overweight body, so you kept your cover-up on the entire time. I remember I wanted to be just like you. You hadn't eaten all day, just smoked cigarettes and drank coffee. So I skipped breakfast too, and sipped my lemonade.
I waded into the ocean holding your hand. You told me, "Hold on tight to me, my sweetheart, and you won't fall." I was scared, and the water felt too cold, but I knew how to swim, and I trusted you. The waves were strong, but we were stronger.
Dad died when I was little. I cried but was too young to fully understand. All I remember is that you couldn't handle it. For a year all you wore was black, and you spent most of your time sobbing in bed. Then it seemed you wanted to move on. I watched you put on makeup and dresses that hid your figure. You dated around, but none of the relationships lasted longer than two or three months. Then you would break up with them. The men you dated were all very handsome, very intelligent, very kind. I felt angry that you kept breaking their hearts.
I remember the last note you wrote to me. I was living with you at 18 years old, and things were not looking up for us. I desperately wanted to move out. Your depression had gotten so bad, you had stopped eating and were now underweight. I was underweight too. My bingeing and purging happened in secret, because when I was with you we just smoked and drank black coffee. No food went into my mouth in front of her.
Outside it rained, and I remember you slipped a note under my bedroom door. It read:
My sweet daughter,
I am so grateful to have you. Thank you for the conversation this morning. I really feel like we are a lot alike, and I hope for you that you find happiness. I'm sorry I am so depressed. Please forgive me. I love you so much, more than words can express.
I was wondering if you could run to the store for me and pick up some sunflowers to brighten the room.
Love,
Mom
I ran to the store, and when I came back you were hanging from the dining room chandelier.