“David!” mom yelled at me rather courtly.
“What have I’ve done now? I always tend to get blamed more often than not for something or other. However, this time, I cannot think of what that might be. Oh well, I will find out soon enough.”
Mom came storming into my room. I wasn’t sure what I was in store for, but it must be a doozy. She was rambling on about something or other, but I for the life of me, could not figure out what that might be. She was hysterical about something of hers that went missing. I got the impression that she thought I took it.
“Like I would take anything of hers… the nerve of her accusing me.”
After she finished her rant, I tried to explain that I did not know why she was angry. I did not take anything of hers. She obviously did not believe me, as she was still in a huff.
I tried to speak, but she interrupted me. She told me that I had better confess now, and make things easier for me: That I would be sorry if I did not hand it back!
I stared at her blankly. Frankly, I was at a loss for words. How could I get her to see that I did not know what about which she was talking? How do I get her to understand that I had not taken what she thought I had?
I decided to remain silent. I decided, no matter how hard I tried, that I could not justify any query or accusation with a satisfying answer without getting myself further into a corner that I could not escape, so I sat there and stared like the idiot she thought I was.
She continued her rant. The more she went on, the nastier it got! I never heard such language before. I may not have understood the words but their tones spoke volumes. The angrier she got, the more it hurt.
I was at a loss of what to say, or do, so finally I broke down and cried. I not only cried, I sobbed great gobs of tears. I wailed due to being afraid of being falsely accused and of not knowing what to do. On I went for quite a few minutes, until I could cry no more.
She turned in disgust. She was mumbling. I did not know if she was talking with me or with herself. It was hard for me to know. I am but a child.
She left my sight, I know not where, nor did I care. It was over.
I went up to my room. I curled up onto my bed where in my bed I laid. I know not for how long, I slept.
On awakening, I noticed it was now dark outside. I sat there tentatively listening, but I could hear nothing. I crept out of bed and to the door. I could see the light out in the hall creeping through the crack on the floor part of the door. Slowly, I turned the knob of the door and pulled it slightly toward me. I cocked my ear to try to hear. However, I could still not make out anything. I got brave, I pulled the door forward, and I stepped out gingerly into the hall. I made my way slowly to the stair top and stopped. Again I attempted to hear and not hearing anything, I made my way quietly but slowly down the stairway.
As I reached the dimly lit living room, I could not make out anything. I crept slowly to the entryway. I could hear, ever so slightly, sobs of sadness.
“Mom?” I asked gingerly. There was nothing. Again, I asked, “Mom?”
The slight sobs ceased.
I stepped, ever so slightly, into the room.
“Mom”, I asked again. There was a pause. She lightly sniffled. “Here,” came a reply.
I stopped.
As if sensing my hesitation, she said, “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you” with arms open.
I rushed into her opened arms! “Mommy, I’m sorry. Please don’t be angry with me,” I pleaded.
Looking sad and remorseful, she said, “Mommy’s not angry with you. And it is I who should be sorry,” she stated simply. “Mommy found her ring in the trash. It must have slipped off after doing the dishes and cleaning the sink,” she explained. “I am sorry and I got upset with you,” she stated.
She let out a cry. I took her hand and she lifted me up.
“I took out my issues on you,” she continued, “I should not have done that, and for that, mommy is sorry.”
She rocked me in her arms and then hugged me tight. I smelt her perfume and sighed.
“How I wish your father was still with us,” she pleaded, “everything was so much easier then.”
I could think of nothing to say. I was contented to stay in her arms forever.
Dad died over two years ago. He died in action overseas and they never recovered his body. Mom never truly recovered from the loss. Mom tried to explain it once, a few years ago, but I just could not understand. I still don’t.
“I never meant to hurt you,” she continued. “I will never act in rage again,” she vowed.
“I love you and always will,” she stated.
“I love you too mommy,” I replied.

Robert Confiant 20 October 2014

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