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- I Acknowledge You, Mom
by Ava By Surprise
Updated: Aug. 3, 2016
Originally Published: Sep. 6, 2015
I acknowledge you.
In my mind’s eye, I can see you as a young woman in your early 20s, with shoulder-length, tousled copper hair. You’re slender and in a bikini, your feet submerged in a small wading pool alongside a bare, redheaded toddler—me. The sun glows above you, casting a warm light as I gaze up at your smiling face, feeling both your warmth and that of the sun.
Now, I see you in your 30s, tears streaming down your face in your bedroom. You’ve shed some weight, but the burdens you carry are heavier. Your hair remains vibrant, showing no signs of gray yet. I sit beside you on the bed, crying in confusion over divorce, a concept I don’t fully grasp but know it’s tearing us apart. My love for you is intense, yet I can’t help but feel resentment. Marriage can’t be that difficult. He can’t be that bad. Why are you doing this to us?
Fast forward to your 40s. I see you entering the church, still with that stunning copper hair, now flecked with white. You’re adorned in green, your best color. As music fills the air, we share a laugh when someone rushes past us to take their seat. You take my arm and guide me down the aisle. I turn to my new husband, momentarily looking away from you.
In your 50s, I arrive home late to find you anxiously waiting at the front door. You’ve gained a little weight and your hair is grayer now. The air is humid, hinting at rain. Flashing blue lights sweep across the house, illuminating you in fleeting moments. I approach and hand you my son, trying to offer reassurance as the officer stands with my husband at the end of the driveway. Torn between your instinct to support me and the need to protect my child, you remain steadfast. When I return from handling the situation, I choose to stay with you. I finally grasp the truth: marriage is indeed challenging.
As you enter your 60s, I see you in a lovely green dress once again in an entrance hall. Time has transformed your hair to silver, yet you remain beautiful. You gather my children, each holding one of my hands, while you clasp mine tightly as we walk to the front of the room. The music begins, and this time, it’s my kids who guide me down the aisle. You stand proud at the front, knowing I’ve chosen wisely this time. As I take my children’s hands and turn to my new husband, I make sure to keep you in my sight.
I spot a chubby, redheaded toddler splashing in that familiar wading pool. The sun warms my head as he beams at me, and I feel his joy. Now in my 40s, my hair resembles yours—red and slightly unruly. It feels both nostalgic and fresh. I wonder if he will remember these moments as I gaze into my reflection in the window.
I see you.
This piece was originally published on Sep. 6, 2015.
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In summary, this narrative weaves through various stages of life, capturing a mother’s evolution and the complex emotions shared between a mother and her child. It reflects love, challenges, and the unbreakable bond that shapes our identities.