Confessions of a Daughterless Mother

I was four. Maybe five? Small enough I fit on my Great Aunt Dorothy's lap like a bluebird in her nest. My grandma was driving. Her blonde bee hive hair whispering across the white roof or her ruby red Grenada, the prettiest car I had ever seen. I don't remember where I was traveling or what the circumstances were -- only that I missed my Momma and I wanted to go home. I had a penchant for big emotions and I was crying. Really, really crying. All three of us sitting in the front seat they sang and Aunt Dorothy rocked me back and forth. My little body quaking with sobs my little hands held hers as I slowly fought my body to melt into hers. I remember the ache in my soul of being separated from her, of wanting the comfort and safety that only mommas can give. "Look do you see the white horse, Lara?" Aunt Dorothy asked. Sneaky. I loved horses. My Gram slowed down and out the window stood a beautiful, snow white mare (let's be re

I dragged his bag behind me. The noise from the wheels rolling through the stray rocks in the parking lot grinding like gentle background music. I dipped my head as I pulled open the high school door, pulling my hat down over my eyes. If I was a good mom I wouldn't be bringing him his baseball bag he forgot. If I was a good mom I would let him learn from the consequences -- missing the second day of baseball try outs. I was both embarrassed and poised to defend my decision should anyone ask. My words spilled out of my mouth faster than I could catch them when I presented the bag and my purpose to the school secretary. Things like, "just this once!" and "teenagers" with a roll of my eyes. My heart pounded faster than it needed to and I turned with a smile--practically running out of the office before I could be chastised for bringing my kid what he forgot. Knowing that I didn't believe a word I just said. It wouldn't be just this once and it's

I remember my first steps into the halls of my high school --- I was hesitant, unsure. I remember scanning the sea of people looking for a friendly face and not finding one. I remember what I wore when I took the ACT (I also remember not knowing--at all--what the ACT actually was). I remember standing outside taking pictures with friends after our high school Swing Out assembly. I remember standing outside the door of my first college class, trying to screw up the courage to walk inside. Honestly, I didn't. I went on day two. My first year of college? I also remember skipping class. A lot. I dropped classes and changed majors more often than I took tests and I certainly had no business wasting my parent's money on being completely aimless and avoiding anything difficult. Don't get me wrong, I had three jobs and I usually worked hard at them. Until I got tired, and then I called in sick (which I was - no one should work from 5am until 3am and try to g

I was a good-enough student in high school--I had a 3.0 something. If I knew exactly what it was I would share -- but I really only know it was over a 3.0 because I was a card holding member of the 3.0 Club and was given a free small french fry at Wendy's for lunch! Frankly, I didn't even know that the 3.0 Club correlated to my grades until I asked what the 3.0 Club actually meant. I keenly remember my embarrassment that I didn't know that the 3.0 meant my grade point was over a 3.0--I was too humiliated to then ask what did "grade point" mean, and how I could find out what mine was. Because obviously, I should have known this already. I had to take Trig over my senior year in high school because I got a "D" junior year. If I'm honest, I never did the homework. Like ever. The problem was--I never understood from the first day and I never asked for help. I could never catch up. I looked lazy, I looked like I had no motivation. Really? I was emba