48. Childhood

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
Well, this is for my mom. Even though it's pretty late for a mother's day sort of thing. XD This is dedicated to those mothers who are fighting and to those who are watching their mothers fight.
At first this as going to be focused more on prostitute mothers but I guess while I was writing it "flowed" toward the appreciation theme.

Submitted: May 22, 2011

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Submitted: May 22, 2011

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"Mommy, when I grow up, I'm going to be just like you!"

 

But I never knew she was a prostitute. I guess that was how she paid for everything. Now, don't misunderstand, she wasn't those kinds that stood in the alleys and slums waiting to get laid. No, she handled only with the most private, top clients, like CEOs, men with high positions in general. I guess that was how she paid for everything. Now that I think about it, I never knew who my father was. That never bothered me though. Having it just be my mother and I made me happy. It made me feel independent. I still can remember the days when we were still happy.

 

 

"Mommy!!! Will you play with me?"

"Sorry Baby, I have to work, I'll play with you when I get back," she replied bending down to give me a kiss on the forehead.

"Aww, okay then, good luck at work Mommy," I said, pouting.

She carried me into the car and drove me to the nursery where I stayed until she could pick me up. I remember seeing the black Mercedes drive away into the downtown area.

 

 

"MOMMY! WHERE'S MY BACKPACK!?" I shouted.

"It's in the kitchen honey, hurry, or you'll be late for the first day of 1st grade." she said calmly, despite the fact I had just yelled at her.

"FOUND IT!!!" I yelled as I picked up my brand new, pink Barbie backpack. It was the first day of first grade for me. She parked her car in the curb and walked me to my new classroom at a high class private school. My mother walked with confidence even though all the parent's were staring at her and whispering. At the age of six, I just thought it was because she was so much prettier than all the other parents. Never did I know that it was because she looked too young to be a parent. She was 18 when she had me.

 

 

"Hey mom, can I get a cell phone, I'm already eleven, and since I'm starting middle school today, everyone at school's going to have one," I reasoned with my mom.

"Why would you want a cell phone? It's just another reason to worry," she said as she drove me toward my school.

"Well, what if I get lost? What if I need a ride home or I'm coming home late?" I told her, trying to convince her of my point.

"Honey, if you need a ride home, borrow someone's phone, and I'm pretty sure the office at school has a phone you can use."

"Fine," I  said, I was pretty angry at her for this but I decided to not press the issue. When we arrived at school, I just decided to ask her to drop me off.

"Are you sure you don't want me to walk you in?"

"No thanks Mom, see you later," I told her. Lately, instead of my walking home, my mother had come and picked me up from school at least once a week then. She had told me she was using her unused vacation days. I never figured she had less clients than before.

 

 

"Mom, I'm going to school now,"

"Okay, have fun on your first day of high school," she said in a playful manner. It was the beginnning of my freshman year and I couldn't wait to see my friends. The day in general was great. When I got home, I found my mother sleeping on the couch with the TV still on. Lately, she hadn't been going to work so I just figured she was having problems at work. As soon as I started to make dinner, she woke up and shooed me out of the kitchen.

"I want to make dinner for you for as long as I can since one day, I'll be too old to," she said in a happy tone as she cracked the eggs. She whipped them quickly and poured them onto the pan over the stove. Then my mother looked back at me and I realized for the first time how much she had changed.

 

 

"Mother, I never actually found out what you did for work," I confronted her one day.

Suddenly, my mother burst out in tears. I was puzzled to why she was crying.

"What wrong? Is your stomach hurting? Why are you crying Mother?" I asked as I bent down to see if anything was wrong.

"It's nothing dear, here, bring me to the couch and I'll tell you."

I carried her over the our couch where she sat and cried for another ten minutes. Pretty soon, her cries turn into soft sobs and she was able to speak to me.

"Honey, this might be hard for you to accept,"

"What might be mother? Just tell me, you've kept it a secret for so long already," I asked patting her back.

"Well, I was a prostitute. That's how I paid for everything. Your father was one of my clients," she said and she starting sobbing now.

"Mother, it's okay, is that why you haven't been going to work? You have no more clients," I asked, slightly shocked. Even though my mother had just told me she was a prostitute, I still loved her. She was the woman who decided to give birth to me even if I wasn't the child of the man she loved.

"Honey, I'm so sorry for not telling you earlier," she said inbetween sobs.

"Calm down mother, it's okay. I still love you," I asked. And as if those were the magic words, my mother stopped crying.

"Thank you, I love you too," she said with a smile on her face.

 

 

Those days are gone. Forever. Though I still have pictures and videos, it will never be the same. My mother, my loving mom, mommy, she was gone before I knew it. Before I had the time to truly appreciate her. After I had finished college, she suddenly got sick.  She was getting weaker and could barely climb the stairs. One day, she fell down the stairs. When I got to the hospital, I feared for the worst. But the doctor's new was even worse than that.

 

"I'm sorry, but your mother has ALS, also known as Lou Gehrig's disease,"

That was it. My world had collapsed on me. My mother, was going to be unable to go places with me anymore, she wouldn't be able to see her grandchildren to even play with them. Without her, my world was empty.

 

She died when I was 30, she was 48. My daughter was just 8 but she understood the reality. Grandma had been sick for a long time, and now she was in heaven. When she grew up, I would tell her of the great fun her mom and her grandma had together. For now, my daughter, my husband, and I mourned the loss of my mother, the most important person in my childhood. The most important person in my life.

 


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