Happy Mother’s Day…
I bought you daffodils because they are your favourite. They are sitting in a vase on the window sill in my little kitchen. It wish I could come round and give them to you. I would sit in the kitchen of my childhood, all that familiarity would make me feel warm and safe. We would chat about nothing in particular. I would watch you arranging the flowers in that little duck egg blue vase you have had for as long as I can remember and then you would make us both a cup of tea. On the floor my child would play with the little basket of toys you kept from my childhood in the hope that one day a grandchild would be part of your life.
But I can’t give them to you because you wouldn’t let me. If I tried I know you would throw them back at me and slam the door in my face. You tell people who remember you have a daughter that I live far away and anyone who doesn’t know, you never mention me. You have cut me off like a cancerous growth, something evil and dirty, to be removed and cleansed from your life.
Your Granddaughter is beautiful, she is strong and feisty, she has the most amazing head of unruly black curls and the darkest brown eyes I ever saw. She charms people wherever we go but you can not even bring yourself to look at her let alone acknowledge her existence and all because of the colour of her beautiful skin.
Despite all the horrible vicious things you have said to me and your utter hatred for my wonderful daughter I still miss you Mum and I still buy you daffodils on Mother’s Day.