The day I was born my mother was no longer just a woman.
My mother was now a mother.
She was now a woman, a mother, and a wife, among many other things.
The word Mother has barred me from ever having her talk to me as a woman or a wife.
It has taken her name from under my nose, replacing it with a role.
My mother. She’s my mother, and I just wish she could be more to me.
She’s my friend, but she’s my mother.
She’s an amazing woman, but she’s my mother.
She’s the most caring wife, but she’s my mother.
The word penetrates through any other relationship I could have with her.
I’ll tear that word vowel from vowel, and I just hope the process doesn’t make us strangers.
Inspiration
So. Have any of you watched Neon Genesis Evangelion? I'm kidding, that's not what inspired this. What inspired this was my mother, obviously. The supposed 'hurricane' that was supposed to run through California came by, and Mom got the family outside to just listen to the rain. She barred us from electronics, and I opted to read a book in lieu. I kept looking over the pages to see my mom cozy in a blanket drinking her tea, scrolling on her phone. It blew my mind as a child that so many people have different lives and experiences, and I'll never get to live all of them. This thought came back to me looking at my mom enjoying her tea. I know her as my mom, but not as a daughter, or a wife. Even if I get a glimpse of other sides of her the title of 'mother' will always blur the image.
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