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My mother and I have a very special relationship. It could be defined in one word, understanding. Probably you are asking why not love or respect. Well, it is more than that. We passed through a lot to get to this point, and honestly I never thought we were going to make it. I cannot say that I am the kind of persons that have really nice memories of her childhood, I can remember a few of them but none involving my mother. I have read so many books where a character associated his childhood with the sweet voice of her mother, the floral smell of her hair or the softness of her skin. I do not. Of course I associate memories with my mother but they are not pleasant. Instead of a sweet voice I remember yells, about the smell of her hair or her skin I can not tell I was never that close to her. What I do remember is a severe looking, always judging, always controlling. She was always angry. But ironically I found her beautiful. She was always well dressed, nice makeup, fine jewelry, I was an excellent student on the primary school, so I did not know what was wrong with me, why my mother didn’t love. That is not what all the parents want from their children?? To be good students?? Not in my case, she wanted something else from me and for sure I couldn’t satisfy her. I remember when I was 6 or 7 my mother told me to clean my room, I didn’t do it, I was watching TV. I went to the kitchen to ask to my father for milk, when she asked me if I cleaned my room, I saw that she was holding a bunch of magazines. When she found out that I didn’t do my shores, she got so mad that she threw all the magazines to my head. It didn’t really hurt physically, I cried in that moment because I got scared, but later I cried because it hurt in my heart.
Approximate Word count = 1341
Approximate Pages = 5.4
(250 words per page double spaced)
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