In my mind, there was a day that my mother gave up on love.
She always says that Richard shouldn't have been my father--biology being biology, Dad should been the boyfriend before she took her vows.
Your whole body can give up, bits and pieces at first, piling up, adding to dead weight. I feel it. Like your insides are being dragged to slaughter.You dig inside and hand over a chunk of liver.
She tells the story when there is no one around but us.
The day she gave up on love.
I want to name my baby girl "HOpe" so that every day and any time she's down she always remembers to believe in the idea.
I'll never have any children, but I dream about them. I don't want to find my daughter in the ER with cut up arms or struggling to breathe under a ventilator because she decided she couldn't live this life anymore.
No comments:
Post a Comment