MOTHER
One of the most vivid times you had with her was when she was a little girl, smiling gap toothed up at you, sitting on a white bed. The room was lit only by a lamplight on a table, and her hand was small compared to yours, but her grasp was tight and demanding, and her voice begged you to stay until she fell asleep. And you stayed. You always stayed, when she asked you, because when she tiredly whispered, "I love you, Mummy," before her eyes closed, you knew -for sure- there was no other feeling quite like it in the world.
But there's no feeling quite like now either. And if only you knew how it's choking you both maybe then it would stop. But this feeling, it becomes you, and the sight of her tanglewood of hair and her eyes dark and wide with possibility, will be something you'll never forget. Vivid this moment is, only this time you'd rather not it happen. Explaining to her you'd like it if she stayed at home for the holidays instead of with friends, your voice has never been more pleading- wordlessly begging for her to understand. But she shakes her head and you close your eyes. She doesn't want to.
In the the front room, you think she sees you as a thoughtless beast, unaware of everything. She says you wouldn't understand why she needs to be away.
You ask, "Since when?"
She turns her head away from you. "Since them."
And the realization of how much you're a stranger to her comes into full focus. You try to reach out for her hand, maybe then, you think, she'll give in. The light of the room is uncaring, and her hand is as big as yours now. Sweaty, it is, and shaking. "Hermione," you say, "we need to-"
But she's tugging her hand away from yours. "Honestly, Mum!" She sounds upset with you, so upset with you. And you're really not quite sure how it's all come down to this.
"Your father and I scarcely see y-"
"Mum, please, you know exactly why!"
"So spend the holidays with-"
"I think I have every right to choose where I belong!"
And you feel your grip on her hand loosen.
She has every right to choose where she belongs.
The house has never been more quiet. And you let your daughter's hand go and watch as they fall to her sides.
She has every right to choose where she belongs.
And you're defeated.
--
You ask, "Since when?"
She turns her head away from you. "Since them."