Incoming

"What do you want me to say?" She sat in her recliner with an expression that was hard to discern.

I felt anger at the apparent ease with which she received my words - my speech - and pushed it all back in my direction as if I was supposed to tell her what to do. I had poured out my heart and soul to her, to this woman who had given me life. She had listened to me, but she had heard nothing. I bowed and shook my head, hating myself for expecting anything less.

"Seriously, how does one respond to being told they were or are a bad parent?" She crossed her arms and gently rocked the chair back and forth. I noticed the wetness of her eyes, but it was hard to figure out if it was allergies or sorrow. I assumed the latter.

"How am I supposed to know? I can only tell you how I feel. You've been leaning on me for direction for too long." I regretted the angry tone that had crept into my voice. I pushed my hands under my thighs to hide the shaking.

"Well, you seem to have made up your mind about a lot of things. You always were a headstrong kid, always so sure of what you thought you knew. You know, you can learn a lot from different perspectives." The rocking stopped as she leaned forward to highlight the seriousness of her words.

"I have an open mind. So, you're saying everything that happened didn't happen if I look at it through your eyes?" The open discussion felt liberating. I retrieved my hands as the anger subsided. I waited for her reply, anxious to continue the sparring.

"No, your childhood is what it is. It was far from ideal and I know it, we all know it. What do you think of my own childhood and your brothers and sisters?" She spread out her arms to emphasize the size of her point.

"We are talking about me, not them." The comparison served no point as far as I was concerned. It didn't dilute what had happened, it couldn't.

"Yes, I know, but you have to consider the other players. Nobody lives in a vacuum." The chair rocked angrily as she fell back appearing to lose her cool.

I sat silent as her words travelled through my mind. I shook my head as the point was rebuked. The only relation I could see with others was their part in my plight. It was my turn to cross my arms with silence as the only response.

"There are no human gods, people are fallible. You have to know that. You'll realize soon enough when your own kids point the finger at you. People love to blame their parents for every problem." A faint smile appeared and disappeared as quickly with her eyes fixed on me.

"Believe me; I know you are not perfect." Once again, no punches were pulled and I felt a pang of regret. I never wanted to hurt her, not too much, but only wanted to clear the air. I wanted an apology. I wanted recognition - validation - for what I felt.

"Your childhood and upbringing was what I could manage. I did my best whether you believe me or not." She seemed at peace with the simple explanation as she finished off the glass of tea. The sound of the empty glass against the table circled the room.

"It wasn't good enough and that bullshit answer isn't either." I rose and pulled the keys from a pocket to signal my departure and the end of the discussion.

"Sit down!" She angrily pointed to the sofa as it awaited my return. Her emotion was surprising as I followed the order and she continued. "Yes, it is a simple answer, but it is all we have. I am not going to apologize for doing my best, nobody should ever do that. Did I make mistakes? Sure, but I never gave up and you are here, we all are here, because of it. I had no training for being a single parent. It isn't a defense, but it is the truth. I am not perfect and I know you suffered, but no life is without suffering or hardships. It is what makes us human. Now, you can continue to blame me or whoever for whatever ails your mind, but I won't accept it and I never will."

The fog cleared as her fiery speech closed. I shook my head and smiled as our eyes met. The truth of our past was so clear, she did what she had to do, she did what she could and we all survived because of it. It seemed like a plausible explanation for so many things, the many mistakes of our lives. The key to compassion and forgiveness is realizing the fallible nature of human gods. I stood and went to her side, we embraced and I told her how much I loved her.

Listen up

All eyes turned in his direction as he strode through the narrow aisle towards the makeshift podium - a scarred, portable wooden lectern resting on a small white round table. He stepped over the cord as he reached his destination, noticing the dull silver microphone resting on the table.

His body shifted from side to side as he was introduced. He watched as the chatter slowly died and attention focused on the podium. There were a few familiar faces sprinkled among the group, those he had recently met.

A chill swept over his body. He was covered in sweat and suddenly nauseous. The sound of the door opening filled the room as he exited and ran to the nearest restroom. His prayers were answered as it was empty. His forehead rested in his hands while sitting in the tiny stall, expecting someone to interrupt the silence any minute.

The flush echoed in the brilliantly white room. Running water and a few towels left a presentable face, but the feet would not cooperate as he decided to return. The searching for advice and lessons from the college public speaking class were non-existent while trying to convince his feet to move.

The nerve finally returned and he was strolling towards the doors that served as his previous exit. The chatter had returned as he stepped into the room, feeling his right foot slide across the linoleum floor as he planted, awaiting recognition.

The smiling face of his sponsor briefly calmed the nerves. He nodded to confirm that he was okay and ready for a restart - or 'do over' as he and his brother liked to call it when they were growing up. He firmly grasped the podium - one hand locked on each side - and surveyed the crowd again.

He tried to look at only the foreheads as everyone had advised, but it was hard to avoid the eyes. He cleared his throat and glanced down at the blank wood surface, wishing for kind of notes. The words suddenly formed in his throat as he looked up. He opened with the usual line and it became easier as the words flowed and heads nodded agreement.

Not true

I thought this was implied, but the shit on this blog is made up, as in not true.

Fiction
the class of literature comprising works of imaginative narration, esp. in prose form.something feigned, invented, or imagined; a made-up story.the act of feigning, inventing, or imagining.an imaginary thing or event, postulated for the purposes of argument or explanation.Law. an allegation that a fact exists that is known not to exist, made by authority of law to bring a case within the operation of a rule of law.Any questions?

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Missing

The sound of light rain filled the air as he sat in the cheap plastic chair. He pushed back and the chair relented. Their stroll through the local Wal-Mart carrying the chairs played in his mind as he drained the beer.

The bottle shimmered in the faint rays from the porch light as it disappeared over the edge of the deck. He listened for a thud or any sign of it landing, but the night air seemed to swallow it.

He twisted open another bottle and the cap bounced on the floor. He couldn't help but wonder where she was at that moment. He shook his head violently with eyes tightly closed as images of where she could be placed. He stood and looked into the sky, blinking as the water beat against his face.

He surveyed the deck with images of her everywhere. One by one he tossed the items she had selected, until there was nothing left but an old grill - a grill they had used countless times.

He remembered how much she loved cajun seasoning on everything as he pushed it over the edge of the top step. He thought of the old Slinky commercials as it bounced down the steps. He flinched when the tank met the concrete, wondering how much gas was left in it.

He walked across the suddenly empty shiny surface - water splashing with each step. He knew it was a mistake, everything was a mistake these days, that he'd have to clean up tomorrow, but tomorrow could wait. He didn't want to think about tomorrow with yesterday on his mind.