Exceptional On Mother's Day Trying to remember Ma by Mary Vigasin Mother's Day writing prompt entry

She has been dead for decades, yet I still grieve and feel empty and guilty every Mother's Day. I cannot remember my mother's presence in my life. She was there, but I cannot remember her physical presence. I cannot remember a hug, a kiss, or my hand being held. I only have old black-and-white pictures to remind me of her appearance and of me with her. I sometimes wonder if my older sister's stories of her are the only way I know who she was. There are certain events that I know she must have been present, yet it is as if a big eraser removed her from my memory. When I was six, I had my tonsils out. I was a real baby and wanted only my mother as I left the hospital. I cannot see her with me. I remember she loved this old Victorian house. She daydreamed about moving out of public housing and into this big house. I know she told me of her dream, but I only remember standing in front of that house, and I was alone. Growing up in poverty, she was determined to spoil her kids on Christmas. I remember being delighted with the toys but not her being there. The day she died, I remember her kneeling sick on the bathroom floor and telling me to return to my friend's house, where I had been playing. I can remember her words, but not her. Returning to my friend's house, I did not think of Ma, that is, until I heard the ambulance siren. Writing Prompt Please write a poem or story under 500 words about your mom, what Mother's Day means to you, or special experiences you have had on Mother's Day. Recognized Author Notes As noted, my only thoughts of Mother's Day are what I am missing. I was 7, my sisters 6 and 13, and my brother 12. My mom was 36 when she passed away.

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