“i can’t wait to have a daughter,” i say a light dancing in my eyes as i dream of that magical day “you don’t want a daughter, they’re too hard,” says my mother not realizing that as the words pass her lips she’s shattering my heart once again for i am her only daughter and i don’t miss the implication that her life would be easier if only i’d been a son so i lower my gaze as the light flickers, then fades and silently, i pray for my future daughter promising i’ll never make her feel this way a few days later in a stack of my mother’s old things a booklet from her in the 6th grade she writes about wanting daughters before the world taught her it was a sin to be anything other than a son and again, i pray this time for my mother and that little girl who was dreaming of me “i’m so sorry they made you feel that way”
Discussion about this post
No posts