I Was . . .

I was thinking about my mother in the early morning hours after her birthday had passed without celebration for the third time. I was feeling a little blue, saddened by the thought that I never got the chance to be a real daughter to her … whatever that meant. I was filled with regret that life, living and circumstance had forced me to be so many things to her, but a real daughter?

I began to daydream, (a skill my grandmother, her mother, taught me to use and appreciate when I was just a little girl) about what being her real daughter would have felt like, might have been like between her and I.

And then these incredible thoughts began to pour, gush, force their way out of me, cathartic and insightful … and in free verse! From some source so deep inside me it could only be from the soul they came surging, rushing, demanding to be recorded. And when done I finally understood, and am so grateful for this writing … this gift.
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I was her surrogate when she had to work, nanny, babysitter, the one ‘in charge’.
I was her ego when her esteem stumbled; she was so beautiful.
I was her groomer, perched on the back of the sofa; 100 strokes.
I was her cook, confidant, maid, errand girl and fan.

I was her weapon, her assassin when she could not take the killing shot to make way for a better life.
I was her burden, her guilt and humiliation.
I was her scapegoat, foe and challenger.
I was her spy, stool pigeon, and snitch.

I was her whipping boy, her brute, and tyrant.
I was her bully when she needed to get her way but couldn’t bear the blame, the shame.
I was her chauffeur and her conscience
I was her nurse, her alchemist and coach.

I was her messenger, her dark angel of bad news, sad news, and harsh words.
I was her mediator and go between, her sounding board and hostess.
I was her vicarious existence, her connection to a life envied and desired.
I was her stooge, her ear to hidden truths, secrets shared.

I was her muse and her music; I made her tea.
I was her teacher, wisdom and wanderer.
I was her caregiver, comfort, friend and pal.
I was her truth, her student; innocence destroyed.

I was her voice, creativity, and joy.
I was her warrior, her light, sun, moon and stars.
I was her eyes, her vision and view of inner and outer worlds.
I was her interpreter and cultural monitor

I was her harbour, keeping her safe from the ravages of her own doing.
I was her servant, tutor and counselor
I was the benefactor early ethics, scruples, and values before life wore her down.
I was her brave girl, “too stupid to be afraid of anything”.

I was her “sweet little klutz”, uncoordinated, gangly, morbidly shy.
I was her tempo and temperament.
I was her moral compass and code.
I was her champion, negotiator, solver of disputes.

I was her smoother and soother, her laughter and clown.
I was her unwitting accomplice, her fawn.
I was her partner in crime, her provoker.
I was her ambition, her justice and peace.

I was her intimate, one source of her powerful love.
I was her cup and sponge, catching and absorbing rare tears.
I was her magic, her pathway, adventurer and seeker
I was her guardian, her focus, her hands.

I was her companion in sadness, joy and mischief; in bewilderment, confusion and despair; in celebration and awe
I was her link to things mysterious and spiritual;
I was the one who placed her in the ground.
I was the vehicle for her leaving on a beautiful song.