You were always a cold mother. Even as a tiny tot, parading up and down in the lounge, wearing toddler-sized heels and more than enough make-up for a grown woman, let alone a little girl like me, I knew that your heart was barren. I could never please you. There was always that crease between your eyebrows. Disappointment seeped out of your pores.
You wanted a blonde-haired, blue-eyed Barbie doll of a daughter. You wanted me to transform into a perfectly-proportioned teenager, into Homecoming Queen, into the girl that every boy wanted, and the girl that every other girl wanted to be. Instead, you got me, the short, stocky, brunette, grey-eyed, spectacle-wearing geek. The only thing I got intense about was chemistry. Make-up, nails and short skirts were not in my repertoire. I was not a daughter to be proud of, in your eyes.
Oh, you may well worry. You may well tell your friends that I’ll be an old maid, childless and your lip may curl when you spit out the words ‘chemist’. But you’re worrying about the wrong things, mother. Who brings you your morning coffee? Who brings her work home? Who is forgetful enough to pour poison into your special mug, instead of sugar?
Yes, you created a monster. But not the sort that you expected.
Sleep well, Mother dear.
——
I decided to take part in something new! The lovely Angela at VisDare is taking a well-deserved break for October, to concentrate on her exciting writing project, and the rest of life in general. So, welcome one, welcome all, to Three Word Wednesday! I know it’s Sunday, but thankfully, we don’t have to contribute on a Wednesday, since I only blog at weekends, these days.
This week, the words are:
Barren
Intense
Worry
What a cheerful combination! I decided to link it up to my Five Sentence Fiction post, which you can read here. Let me know what you think of my response, and do pop over to the blog to see how others have responded!
Thank you – although this was purely, completely and utterly fiction, it was based on a merging of a few relationships I experienced in the past. Our past shapes us, don’t you think?
Yikes!
Chilling, Freya…well done!
Thank you, Lynne!
Dark! I love it. And a great link back to the pageant story.
Thank you! Dark s my preferred start, middle and end point 😉
So sorry about your relationship with your mom. 🙏🙏🙏
Thank you – although this was purely, completely and utterly fiction, it was based on a merging of a few relationships I experienced in the past. Our past shapes us, don’t you think?