Leaving Home - Original Writing
It was the last time I saw my Mother. My grieving pain for my mothers
love infinitely grew. She was god in my eyes but was I the god given
daughter she had hoped for? Everyday I had run to her absorbing her
warmth as I wrapped my long limbs around her waist. The waist that had
carried me for nine months, but was I worth the wait? Mother’s
predictable great force would transfer into my weakened bones forcing
me to collapse onto the striped wooden floor. I would land with a thud
hoping that the chances of me receiving a hug the next day would
increase. Maybe my accidental escape was for the best. Perhaps I was
destined for this moment, this was fait in the palms of my hand,
waiting for me to reach out and snatch the opportunity. Mother had
snatched my rights to live as a normal human being away. It was
forbidden for me to even talk to her. I needed permission. I told my
self through every breath that everything would end up right, I was
right.
Rain, rain everywhere. Summer had died out, until next year. Autumn
had approached me. My memory remained in the happy days but my
solidified body moved on with life. My inner self, deep down, stands
proud and fearless to this world creation signed to god. I always
believed that if god brings you to it, he will bring you to it.
I was eight. I was blessed with the perfect parents. Both their hearts
were fulfilled with love and care. Every moment was heavenly. I lived
in an averaged sized, 3-bedroom apartment in what was considered
‘normal.’ It was good enough for me. The oval shaped window revealed
its outer secrets, the growing towers bordered with a beautiful
skyline.
Father was a man of great expectations. A man of many wise words. His
broad shoulders would easily swing me from side to side like a wild
hungry lion ripping and swinging his possession; his raw meat.