flashback, life, memories, my mother, youth


I keep waking up and having flashbacks to how my mother was towards me…
Yesterday, I fell to the floor, crying remembering acutely how she went to hit me in my eye after I’d had surgery to remove a tumor from there and it was still fresh.  Like just days later. I stood in the living room and she had hatred in her eyes and raised her ugly scrawny hand high to slap my face. I flinched and gasped, felt utter fear in that instant that her hand slamming into my eye would burst the tender eyeball, with twenty stiches keeping it held together. Keeping the fluid inside. I feared my eye would burst with the impact. And with the gasp that escaped my lips, turned my head sharply to the side. And with her hand still raised in the air to strike, she threw her head back and laughed. A loud, cackling laugh, evil in every way. A sound that makes it thru to me, here, 26 years later.
Fear that grips my soul, must somehow be stored within my soul somewhere.
I gathered that shaking tightly together, steadied my jello legs and while her hand was still raised, her head thrown back with guttural laughter, I said to her matter of factly,  “you’re crazy” and walked away.
I don’t know if I cried then. I think back and don’t even know if I could, the tumor in my eye was on the ciliary body, which is responsible for making tears, go figure.
But yesterday, I fell to the floor and lay there weeping.