"i am my mother's only one"

I had to write an extended metaphor for my English class. I didn't think it'd be possible because there's tons of crap happening right now and I can't seem to focus on a damn thing, but surprisingly enough I actually did the assignment and it really opened my eyes. Which is ironic, because it was supposed to be about a time when out eyes were "opened". Anyways, in the end, I cried really hard reading it. I think it helped me see again, what kind of a family I come from. And how much there is to learn from the people we live with. There are two things I know for sure, right now in this moment:

1. I will always, for as long as I live have room for progression.
2. I love my mother, exponentially so, regardless of everything.  

Also, this is the paper I wrote:

“i am my mother’s only one”

It hurt, looking at Her hurt. Her smile felt like a giant hot air balloon had exploded in my chest. The curled tips of her mouth made me cry. She stood there in silence. Her mind drifting like the sea. I longed to comfort Her, to pull Her out of Her black hole of void justifications and neglect, but there She remained. Calm and immovable. I couldn’t comprehend it at the time; She was sobbing one minute and laughing the next, and it killed me. I felt She was unreachable, unlovable. She was stubborn, and ignorant, but I didn’t understand. That was Her home. That was Her refuge. Like a pool She could submerge herself in and be alone, at peace. Underneath the waterline She was in the womb again. Holding herself in fetal position, on her own ground, untouchable with no one to confuse Her thoughts. But then I’d come. Blowing the whistle of perverted reality into Her ears. Forcing Her to understand. Forcing Her to change. Day after day I’d pull Her out of the glassy waters, and day after day She’d beg to return.. but I was so sure of Her immaturity. So convinced of Her lack of progression. And I, truly believed She had chosen to be incompetent. So firmly I believed, until the day Her mother came.

The woman paraded herself in like the prized pig at the county fair, batting her blue mascara draped lashes at the family, “love me,” they seemed to say,” love me and no one else, forever.” And then I felt it again. The large painful rush of the hot air balloon in my chest. My soul cracked like a sheet of glass being dropped from the 23rd story of her ego. I turned away from this beast of a woman, and looked for Her.. my mother, to see what She would do. Would She start sobbing? Would She burst into laughter? I counted moons searching until suddenly I felt Her hover to me from behind, like a fog. She didn’t speak, and She didn’t cry, or laugh. Instead She enveloped me into her mist, and carried me down into Her pool. To Her placid waters, and my heart sank like an anchor to the bottom. In that moment, I felt Her refuge. I felt Her harmony. I wanted to apologize, to thank Her, but the words were restrained at the curve of my lips as if by a glass wall. She held me and saw the words through the clear border. Her face was rested. It was hopeful, and we floated there, together in tranquility. In Her pool, surrounded by  the coagulated dysfunctionality of our own flesh and blood. And in the midst of the peace within chaos, She forgave me.