| Mother's Abhorrence
By Rayts dc
IF YOU think
all mothers love their children, think again. This
may sound like a child's nitpick or a silly grumble of a spoiled
brat not getting what she wants, but it's not.
My mother never
liked me. She never loved me either. Such disgust was never brought
out by a sudden urgency nor was it a product of any heart-rending
situation that made her woke up one day and made her realized that
I am a sordid and odious creature.
No, that was
not the case. Unfortunately, she hated me since day one. I've been
dying to call her mom or mama (like what her children call her)
or even nanay but she never allowed me to do that. We call each
other on a first name basis. But mostly, she calls me with other
names especially if she starts transforming into Bella Flores' twin
sister. Anyway, it didn't bother me anymore. I've become used to
it already. I owe her my thick-skinned attitude. No wonder my classmates
call me "taong bato".
My mother is
not my mother. She is my father's wife. She is my siblings' mother
but that didn't make her my mother. I was fetched in by my father
to live in his house since I was three months old. I do not know
what happened to the lady who brought me in this world. All I knew
was that she's now married and lived in a country somewhere between
Africa and US.
So growing up,
I only knew one mother--the lady of the house, who was also the
mother of my father's children.The mother I knew hated me because
my father loved me too much. She hated me because according to my
father, I looked a lot like my mother, his first, true love. I cringe
a little every time my father shares this little trivia to me. I
don't know why.
The mother I
knew never wanted me since the day I arrived in the house, but because
he loves my father, she tried to give in to the idea. But eventually,
her hatred wasn't kept for so long especially if she sees her "fear"
everyday. I am a living remembrance of my father's betrayal. I came
into this world out of guilt and infidelity.
For a time,
even though I knew that she hated me, I looked upon her with so
much respect. She
may not know this because she rarely gave me the chance to be close
to her but I do. For a time, I did. I do not know if at one point
in her life she was able to learn to appreciate my existence. For
a long time, I have fought with the feeling that maybe, she did.
Maybe. Because one time, I've witnessed it. I came from school.
I was soaked to death. No one was home at that time because my father
was out of town and his other children were on a school trip. I
was alone with my "mother". I have anticipated her reaction
seeing me like a drenched shit but for some strange reason, she
looked so concern. She was in her usual high-pitched, commanding
voice but the fact that I saw her worry made me feel like a soaring
weirdo. I felt good. And I knew at that time, that though she never
liked me, though she never loved me, she cares for me as a human
being. As someone who might get sick and therefore must be taken
care of.
Contrary to
her feelings for me, I respect her so much. She did not teach me
to love her and so I did not learn to do that. But I respect her.
For so many years, I am living in a nightmare. I've always looked
for something that I cannot comprehend. I am always looking and
searching because all my life I've lived like a famished child.
Hungry for a mother's love, a mother's touch, some motherly words.
And for that I promised myself I would never let my own child experienced
what I have. I will never let that child out of my sight. That child
will respect and love me as if I'll be the only living treasure
she or he will have.
I have so much
love to give but I had no mother to give them to. Someday, I'll
have someone to give it. Someday.
------------
Rayts dc, 23, is swimming in a splodge with thousands of bleaks
craving her attention. This is a prelude to her undying conviction
of being neat and worry-free. She also contributes her unsolicited
thoughts via her Crowded Words at www.peyups.com.
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