A Comfy Kind Of Restless

Hey there 🙂

 The tenses are still all over the place here, but it’s another 20 min instalment…

Mum was not too enamoured with the decibel levels emanating from my room, but I think she realised Dad was to blame.  The whole place stank of bleach, and that was always her chemical of choice when it came to him.  I think he made her want to obliterate things; eradicate his germs from everything.  Unfortunately, mum and I were both permanently infected.  His influence was literally in the walls around here.

Eventually mum thumped at my door until I opened it, and just pulled me into a hug.  I love that: the no-talk-needed communication she does.  I never feel unlovable with my chin resting on her shoulder. 

I take in the close-up grey hairs and the shampoo wafts mingling with her perfume.  So many memories swirl around, and I close my eyes to try and shake them.  Instead I felt the tears begin to rise.  I wished I could curl up beside my mother the way I had in primary school, watch endless movies, and just continue feeling safe.

I tighten my grip around her back and sigh.  She pats my shoulder and begins telling me how proud of me she is, and how no-one should ever be allowed to make me feel bad about myself, not even my father.

I wish I could play her voice back as readily as I can the critics in my head.

I suggest pizza and a movie, and she smiles and agrees.

[Pic is from here]

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