Oh, mother! It’s been four years since I heard your melodic voice, seen your beautiful face, smelled your fragrant perfume, tasted your homemade cooking, and felt your broken heart that now mirrors my own. For so long, it was easier to joke around and hate you for disowning me, but somewhere along the way, I found the tear-stained strength to be gentle and kind towards your antique memory. I don’t know where you are. I don’t know if thoughts of me ever cross your mind. Where are you?! I need you! Oh, mother! I’m sorry! I forgive you! It feels like you passed away! I don’t think you love me anymore! I want to caress your mascara cheek and wipe away all your pain, all your hatred that keeps you from turning the page of a fairy tale that never reached its tranquil end. Please be happy! But I can’t turn the page for you. There’s too much serenity in my own story. I can feel the soil slipping from my fingers as the sadness takes over me and waters yet another loving, traumatic memory. I stare six feet below me into the vast unknown in hopes that something…. anything will grow between us again.