My Mother’s Yellow Lap

Her shirt is yellow. It’s the long one with the sleeves cut off. I think she said it belonged to her brother. She’s really short so she wears it like a dress. She’s sitting on my bed. The sheets are plaid, green. I don’t know why, not exactly why, but I lie down and rest my head on her lap. I turn my face towards her belly. It’s comfortable, and I cry there. I place my right arm around her and hold her. I know she’ll try to move me so she can look at my face. I don’t want her to. I hold her tightly.

She calls my name. She’s worried. I can hear it in her voice. My face is all wet now. My body is jerking. I’m not hiding the fact that I’m crying anymore. Doesn’t make any sense. She already knows. She keeps calling my name, trying to move me away from her, trying to look at me. She’s asking me what’s wrong. She’s really worried. What’s wrong with her baby? I just hold her. I don’t want to move. I just want to stay there and cry in my mother’s lap. She just wants to know what’s wrong.

I don’t say anything, but in my head I tell her to let me be. Just let me cry on you. Don’t ask me anything. I’m not even sure myself. Right now I need to cry, and I want to do it here. This is comfortable. Don’t worry too much. Just let me cry.

Finally I give up, because she won’t. She won’t stop calling me and trying to look at my face. She won’t stop asking me what’s wrong. She won’t stop worrying. I give up. I let her go. She’s always been strong. I can’t hold on to her any longer because she keeps pulling me. I let go, and I get up. I wipe my face. She’s still worried. She asks what’s wrong. She calls my name. I shake my head. It’s nothing. She asks what’s wrong. I shake my head again. We keep doing that. She asks what’s wrong. I shake my head. I don’t remember what I said to her to make her stop. I get up, and I go to the bathroom. I rinse my face.

The above is a memory from high school. I’d like to go back there. To that bed. To that house. To that country. To that woman. To her lap. To her arms. If I could, I’d go back, or not back, but there. I’d go there, but without the crying this time.

 

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6 thoughts on “My Mother’s Yellow Lap”

  1. Reblogged this on Among the Whispers and commented:

    I drew the most amazing picture yesterday. I had it in mind to draw something depicting this scene and couldn’t believe how well it came out. And to think I wasn’t in the mood to draw. I’m so glad I changed my mind and decided to do this. I only wish my m mother could see it.

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