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Last Words Spoken



I only have one memory left when it comes to my biological mother, I was in about 4th grade. We  were passing through to stay in Las Vegas for a short while. My dad had asked us if we wanted to go and see our mother. She was working at a bowling ally. We all decided to go see her at her work and bowl for a little while. I remember my feet were too small for the shoes that they had there, so I just wore my socks. This may not have been the best idea for a little kid, bowling in socks. However, it was pretty funny when I slipped and went with the ball down the lane. Rule number one, let go of the ball! I was never really good at bowling, but I have always gotten excited over getting gutter balls. Every time I would throw the ball down the lane and it ended up in the gutter, I would jump and yell "Gutter!" People always look at you oddly when you show excitement for something that is considered a failure. Isn't that like a child though, to see happiness and humor in things least expected. 

Not very long after our bowling visit my dad had gotten a call. She had invited us to come over to her house to spend more time together. Wow can you imagine, two visits with her in the same week, let alone the same year! This was during the winter time around Christmas, I remember that much very clearly. As I sit here writing this, I wonder if this is why I am torn during Christmas. I love that time of year, but never expect much. Sometimes just feels like another day, like my birthday. 
I don't remember what all we did at her house, only the words she spoke to us before we left. She told us that on Christmas Eve she was going to come over to bring us some Christmas presents. I was so excited, we were going to see her again! Can you believe it, she is going to come see us for Christmas! After a few days the day had come our mom was going to come over.  Eagerly standing outside at the edge of the hotel on the roadside curb, waiting for her to come. I was so excited and patiently waiting for her to pull up. Watching all the cars passing by, searching for yours amongst the rest. It was starting to get dark though and the chill of the night was moving in. I had been waiting for her all day, without a word of where she was. My older brother came outside and told me to come inside. I told him "no, she is coming." My brother told me "it's cold to come in, she isn't coming." I told him, "she had promised to come, I wasn't leaving." He told me she had called, and that she couldn't come. Her boyfriend was sick, and she wasn't able to make it. 

I was so hurt and in disbelief by this. I waited all day out there on that curb for you and you never came.
The next morning it was Christmas and there was a knock at the front door. We were so excited maybe it would be you when we opened the front door. Someone was standing in the door way with presents. But it was your boyfriend, not you. Disappointed we politely thanked him for your gifts and closed the door. At this point I was no longer upset, I was angry at you. All day I waited on a promise for you to come see us. Like a child I waited on that curb for you, because you said you would come. It wasn't about the gifts you were going to bring, but the fact that you wanted to come see us again. But how is it your boyfriend was so sick you couldn't come, but the very next morning that same boyfriend is now the one standing in your place? Where were you? Why did you send him to our home when it should have been you? But you see that's just it, I was a child. When you tell a child you are going to do something, they take it to heart. They hold on to it until you do it. There is no reason that can explain why you didn't come, because to me they are just excuses. The few memories I do have of you, you were never a mother. A mother wouldn't do these things to their children. I didn't want your gifts, I needed you. I've always needed you, but I guess you didn't want or need me. 

It was time to pack up and leave, we were moving to New Orleans. As we drew near to your work place at the bowling ally, our dad asked us if we wanted to see you one last time. All 3 of us kids had taken a vote. All 3 of us one by one said no. Without further question we drove on without stopping to say goodbye. Later the next day we had gotten to our uncles house in New Orleans. I remember the phone rang. It was you. First you spoke to the older brother, but quickly he handed the phone to my brother 2 years older then me. Then he quickly handed it to me. I didn't understand why they were passing the phone like this, they weren't even talking. Finally they handed the phone to me. Quietly staring at me, I soon found out why. "Hello" I spoke. You then asked, "Why didn't you stop to say goodbye to me!?" I glared at my brothers. Looking at them I felt like they were cowards to remain silent. I was the youngest, 8 years old. They passed that phone down to me because neither one of them could tell you the truth. We all made the same decision and yet they couldn't admit it out loud. But I did. I needed to tell you, because I knew they wouldn't. I was hurt for the last time by you, and I had enough of your false promises. "We all took a vote on whether or not we wanted to stop and say goodbye you. None of us wanted to see you." I gave the phone back to my brothers with no other words spoken and walked off. 
That was the last time I have ever spoken to my mother, I was 8 years old. But for the first time I did the walking away, and it felt good. 


Edited by AReasonToFight


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