Dandelions and Crying Girls
I'm going back about six years and two months, almost to date. I thought being a fifth grader brought on more privileges than it did. I walked to the Cudahy Public Library with one of my friends instead of going straight home like I should have.
About three in the afternoon found my friend and I walking to my house for a snack since we had skipped lunch (the first day of school is always a half day). "Mother" was… upset… that I didn't come straight home from school.
I refused to talk to her the rest of the day, claiming, "I'm a fifth-grader, I can do things my way. I don't need you to tell me what to do."
The next day, I felt bad for the way I had treated her; I wanted to make amends. So, being the little kid that I was, I picked dandelions on my way home from school. By the time I reached home, I had two good handfuls and presented them to "Mother." She accepted them, knowing that I still loved her.
A year passed…
Then "it" ruined my 'once-upon-a-perfect-life…" "It" broke my heart, crushed it, tore it in two, smashed it to smithereens… "It" was my parents' divorce.
On the way to the bank, Mother Dearest told me she wanted to divorce Dad.
Over the past five years and two months, our relationship has been like a dandelion in the wind (sometimes we're together and other times the wind blows us apart). I haven't talked to her in over a month. I didn't even get a "Happy Thanksgiving!"
I don't know how many times I've cried over how stupidly my mother acts, but I know she can't love me: she shows so in her actions.
To this day, my mother will never know if I love or hate her because I'm getting sick of being blown around by the wind.