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The weeks had been flying by. My life was becoming a pile of broken pieces of the mirror I once saw myself in. I looked old. I felt old. All the traveling in the world shouldn’t do this to someone. I had found out who I was, who I’d been. I had found out more about my forgotten past then I wanted to know, but still I knew nothing.
A long time ago I had a family, dysfunctional and broken, but still I can remember them being there. It seems like a century since I felt them in my heart, and even longer since my eyes had held them. A smaller, more innocent version of myself, trusted them, held them close, and when they rejected me, he faded away.
I was going on another trip. This time, I was headed into a swampland of memories, cruel, unforgiving, dangerous and dark. A harsher land then the plains of remembrance I had been visiting over the last two moons. I was going to see my mother, I took the greyhound bus. If you’re ever lucky enough to get the back seat of a greyhound to yourself, I hope its bathroom is clean. The bus I took smelled just like the swamp to which I was headed.
She picked me up from the bus station in the rain, in the cold fall that bears upon Iowa every year. God, for a little while it felt timeless, like there hadn’t passed a single moment where I was without her. That passed so quickly it made angels cry. She tried to explain herself, snarling from this emotional cage she had trapped herself within, unaware that she had even been building it. My mother appeared to me as a deer, caught in high beams. Was I supposed to be a concerned driver, or a joyful hunter? She didn’t make it an easy choice. “Give me a hug, take a picture.” She yapped at me before I knew the sounds of her yapping. Is it wrong to ponder how the photo will be remembered later? Her car was a red version of the Turquoise Grand Prix stamped on my mind, but how very small it seemed so long ago. I could do back flips or practice karate between the seats on the floor, now my legs hardly fit into the little metal beast at all. I still wonder though if she could tell I’d grown. At least she hadn’t brought a car seat.
I think in me she saw my dad, and her dad, and every man who had ever let her down. “Has it really been so long?” I ask myself, I can’t believe it. I don’t believe I am awake right now; this dark dream is like a sick reflection of cobwebs from nightmares of my youth, nightmares still hiding in the attic of my mind. I want to dust them out, but that space is just too haunted, and I’m afraid. I still try to remember her voice.
How much a caricature of the half cruel mother I recall was this woman with whom I was just becoming accustomed? When we reached her cozy, pseudo suburban house, and had met the cats, and seen the pictures of her beloved, and her beloved daughter (but still before realizing there was barely a token picture of myself) my mother led me to a room which was called “mine”. This cave was small, but a welcome space from the horrors of this emotional terra which gave me memories of my childhood on the corners of lakeside and military drive, in faraway and warmer Texas. One Christmas, I remember meeting my dad, who purchased for me the forbidden bubble gum buffet, and that fantastic nerf football I had been saving for. But the shadowy memories flood in, like the fighting kept away from the kids, for their sake. Sweet Christmas, cold even in Texas. It was almost always cold in Texas, for such a warm place.
A couple of weeks of payback for all I’d done, for all men have done, and our relationship was set in stone. If I become Christ for her get crucified for her, come back and fix her mortgage situation, then her Scorpio life energy will cease to exist, and we will become Madonna and child. However, not everybody comes back from the dead when they are crucified, not everybody is meant to feel the bond of a mother and son, and even if I fought the world and it took me down she would never know what I was fighting for.
Finally, I was headed away from the dankness, the stench and foggy dimness of my mother’s wetlands, no pun intended. The night before I was to be going away from her again, before I was to be forcefully ejected from her life for the second time, I built a cross in that room she gave to me, and I crucified myself. As I predicted, she drove the dead body to the bus station, and drove off with the bus mumbling something bout how at least young kids don’t smoke the last cigarettes, and how gas is so damn high. I was back at the greyhound station.
As a little epilogue to this tale of a meeting, one which was many long years in the making (not too long in hindsight), Christmas has recently befallen us again, and I must pass on to you her Christmas message. “Jesus loves you, you are a little evil bastard but he loves you, I had to tell you on Christmas, it’s his birthday.” Well done mother, in perfect Christmas spirit. You know, in the Middle Eastern winter, in a manger, he’d have been stillborn and the shepards would have frozen. But keep building that cage.

"If the America people ever allow private banks to control the issuance of their currencies, first by inflation and then by deflation, the banks and corporations that will grow up around them will deprive the people of all their prosperity until their children will wake up homeless on the continent their fathers conquered." ~Thomas Jefforson

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The following comments are for "Are you my Mommy?"
by Roach

well, it was...
I started writing this as an entry into the Jan writing challenge. However, i felt the premise was a little too far off, so i'm only posting it as a short story. Maybe i'll come up with somethin next month. :)

( Posted by: roach [Member] On: January 14, 2009 )

@ Roach
For the writing challenge, this would be perfect if you made a few adjustments. Consider this a first draft, and keep working on it.

Just a thought: Is there winter in the Middle East?


( Posted by: OchaniLele [Member] On: January 14, 2009 )

Yes, there is! Tempratures in Tel Aviv drop to between 30-60 degrees F and The arab emeriates get as low as 20F

( Posted by: roach [Member] On: January 15, 2009 )

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