Sometimes I look in the mirror, and I see a miniature replica of my mother reflected back at me. This happens a lot in a given period of time, and then the feeling subsides.

I felt like my mother this morning, walking into the bathroom with my hot coffee and my towel. I deeply imagined what it would be like to be her at certain times as she did this, and I probably figured she was glad to shut out the family she didn’t really want anymore, for even some time under an hour, for a shower and a coffee.

And suddenly I remember the day you let me think it was MY FAULT my siblings went to bed hungry. I remember the mistake I made getting pizza over KFC, but also you blatantly ignoring me as I yelled to you from the other side of the bathroom door. You must have heard me and ignored me in order to better enjoy yourself. The way you spoke to me at the dinner table—like I was the abhorrent, deranged parent whose selfishness raised hunger in all of my siblings. I remember my brother saying in a miserable voice something like, “I’m still hungry mama” and you said something like, “Too bad, this is all we have,” and I had to walk away from the table and leave you all for the rest of the night. Hating myself. Hating myself. Hating myself.

Remembering that, and then looking in the mirror, I see not you, and I see not me, but a person I have never ever seen before. Those are smokey eyes after years and years of crimson burning. That’s the soft but unmoving face of a person long since defeated.

I want to scream for Keith, because I don’t feel like myself at all right now.

Was this ever you? Sitting on the toilet with the water running down the drain, crying and sipping coffee as you think of the suffering caused by your mother’s beautiful hands, or did you just get too strung out to think about it?

Are those the kinds of things you screamed and cried under the water?

Did you see yourself in the mirror when you stepped out?

Are you even fucking sorry for the part YOU played in disappointing the family that night, or do you blame it entirely on me and my lack of responsibility, OR DO YOU NOT THINK ABOUT IT AT ALL? Did you happily divorce your failure when you passed the responsibility to me?

Do you have the water running in your ears everywhere you go to drown out the sounds of your crying babies pleading for you to change? The responsibilities you entirely failed? Does it nullify the taunting silence of your Vacuum?

I wish I could let the hot, hot water hit my dyed head. Did you ever think that, or did you just let it run, anyway?

_10/16/23

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