mama.

It started a couple of months back when this video went viral.  

I found myself explaining a situation that I rarely talk about with my closest friends to nearly strangers... with colleagues, on first dates, to preceptors... rehashing the blurry details of the trials + tribulations that defined my adolescence... the same sad story I spent most of my late teens putting behind me. 

She did drugs. It put her in premature labor. The baby tested positive. The courts got involved. I was removed from her home... she disappeared after that and we didn't hear from her for a very long time... 

While I am not in denial of where I came from, I most certainly had come to terms with the reality of my new normal, that without a mum... and although I missed her immensely, I refused to let being stripped of a childhood define me. I refused to succumb to the label of a "drug abuser's daughter" and chose to channel the energy in to positive manifestations... and move on.  It was an unfortunate series of events in my adolescence that I had no control of and in all honesty, I can hardly distinguish the details of it to this day. It was the end of living a life as I once knew it but it wasn't the end of life... 

...and the exact moment I realized this was the day I chose to keep on living the same full + exciting life I grew up in some ten-odd years ago. Everything happens for a reason; I had figured out why. I was stronger, less selfish, overly optimistic, humbled + appreciative for all the good I could find in the most unassuming places. I had unveiled a passion + an untameable ability to dream. I was a better person because of this + not many things in life can give you all of that in a single moment... so when the dust finally settled, I found myself feeling more grateful than anything.

... but every time someone sees the video + realizes my association, I find myself fumbling for words trying to articulate a perfect dialogue of this conversation regarding "a blind boy with autism who was born to a drug addict". 

That drug addict was my mum. 

While I have come to realize I will never have an eloquent response for the inevitable closing remark, "Well, you turned out incredibly well despite what you've had to overcome"... it is in this moment that I always begin to cry and softly say, "If you could have known her, you would know I am the person I am today because of my mum, in spite of all this."

As everyone around me made plans for their mothers on Sunday and I subtly retreated, it dawned on me that it has been nearly a year since I have seen my mama and that's when it hit me like a ton of bricks... When did it become normal to go an entire year without seeing my mum... and not even notice? It's. not. normal.   

I have been thinking about her a lot recently, missing her presence in my daily life... wishing I could call her in the middle of the day just to say hi, feeling angry knowing that the mum who raised me isn't the voice that I would get on the other line. Feeling sad, barely able to recall what it was like to have a mama as your best friend. Occasionally, there are glimmers of hope that the keeper of my childhood isn't gone for forever but most days I find myself fighting back tears trying to decipher the words of a stranger. 

I lost her at a time when a little girl needs her mama the most and once I processed that she was gone, I accepted my fate + moved forward... As I have grown up over the last few years, I don't need her anymore... but as I grow older, oh my word, do I want her here. I want her to relish in all our accomplishments because they're her accomplishments, too. I want her to know her granddaughter in the same way I know my grams. I want her to lecture me about safe dating. I want her to make sure I'm drinking enough water + getting enough sleep. I want my mom back. 

My heart is heavy tonight.

While I know these are feelings I have had to process before and will probably process many more times with every coming of age throughout my lifetime, I can't help but wish she was in the kitchen right now, suntanned + smelling like a mix between tea tree oil + patchouli, dancing to Bob Marley in some beaded tye-dye sundress she got in Key West with Birkenstocks on, cooking a tofu curry concoction she knew we'd think was weird + asking whether we've brushed our teeth and done our homework... 


...because, instead of rolling my eyes + sighing, "Maaahm" with utmost embarrassment, I'd join in on her dance party + I would eat her home-cooked meal. I know every word to every Bob Marley song now, Mom... and I eat tofu now, too. I am you... and I couldn't be more proud to be your daughter.