This was titled Beloved. I wrote it for Mother's Day last year. Every year I write her something, and I just wanted to share since I love my mama. I will probably write something else but I usually don't start thinking about it until Mother's Day comes closer.
"I love you," I tell her.
She spares me a disbelieving glance as she finishes powdering her nose. I don't budge from my spot against the doorway. In my hands are a bouquet of flowers and a pink, gift wrapped box. I hold them out to her. She ignores them.
"I'm sorry."
"You're always sorry," she mumbles, "and you have a funny way of showing you love me."
I set the bouquet on the table and hug her. Leaning my chin on her shoulder, I pout.
As she applies her lipstick, I mumble to her, "I do love you, you know."
"Then why do you always leave?"
Defeated, I shrug.
"But I always come back," I reply.
"That's besides the point- you always leave."
Before I can say anything she continues, "Do you love him more?"
"No. I love you just as much. . . just differently."
"So you do love him more."
"That's silly. I could never love anyone as much as I love you, mama."
I tighten my hug and kiss her cheek. She hmmphs and shrugs me off her shoulders. This means she is done talking to me. So I set her presents on her bed and walk out of the house. As I pull out of the driveway she stands at the window with her bouquet of flowers to her chest and waves to me.
"Drive carefully!" she shouts at me through the screen.
I know this is her way of telling me she loves me. I grin like a kid and wave back excitedly as I drive off.