For The Hands That Held Me

Dear mother,

I never told you this, but I miss you.

I miss your warm touch and your comforting kisses. I miss the gentle scent of your cheap perfume, wafting through the sweet summer heat as you held me. I miss the lullabies you sang to me as a child; low, soothing, and beautiful. I miss sitting on the porch with you, listening to the windchimes and the songs of the bluejays. I miss waking up early to the sound of you singing, as if nobody else would hear; as if it was just you and the Earth alone.

There are many things I miss. But above all, I miss your voice.

The house is silent now. There are no more lullabies or windchimes. The birds have stopped singing and the bottle of your perfume remains untouched at the back of your closet. Occasionally I go to your room and lay in your bed and imagine you're there with me, like a mama bird nestling with her chicks. But your sheets are wearing thin and a veil of dust has settled between the pillows. I know it's only a matter of time before my memories of you start to fade as well. If I can hold on to just one memory, just one piece of you, then maybe everything will be better.

But you are my mother, and your absence is painful.

I regret not telling you about some things. I wonder what you would've said if I told you that I cut all my hair off; I know how much you liked playing with my hair when I was a child. That is another thing I miss. My hair is now short and chin-length, nothing like the long hair I once had as a little girl. Would you like it? Or perhaps you would hate it, but I would never know anyways because you always had a habit of sugarcoating things.

There are so many things I wish to tell you but I'm afraid that once I get going, I will never stop. I want to pour my heart out to you so desperately but I am aware that I will receive nothing in return. You won't smile or laugh. There will only be silence.

Sometimes I wonder if you were ever truly happy. Yes, you laughed, but sometimes I felt like there was something underneath your lips. Like you knew a sad secret about the universe and couldn't share. That must have felt so lonely. I wish I could've held you like how you held me. In another universe, maybe I would. Did. Maybe there was always a silence in this household, but instead it resided deep within you. Maybe you held on to the silence and soaked it up so your children wouldn't feel it.

Your silence brings a coldness to the house. It's as if your absence is a mold, growing on every wooden beam and infecting the air around me. I understand why the birds have gone silent. You brought life to this house, and now that you're gone, everything has felt empty. There's nothing here for me now.

But I got accepted into college. I'll be leaving. Did I tell you that already? It's the university I used to always tell you about. It's across the continent, so I have to move for good. I never thought I would be leaving this place. It pains me to leave the house behind, but at the same time, it's refreshing. I love the old dreary house with all my heart but I crave for a change, somewhere outside this town. The house became a vampire after you left. I worry that if I don't leave now, it will suck all the energy from my body and render me paralyzed, stuck inside this house for all eternity. I don't want that. I'm going to go to university. I will study. I will make you proud of me.

That's all I ever wanted. If you're proud of me, perhaps you will come back and hug me. Just one more time.

I miss you, mother. Perhaps in a couple more years I'll have more news to tell you.

Signed,

your daughter.