A second story from this week’s prompt putting together three completely different writings into one connected whole. This final piece speaks for itself:
“As a child I remember anxiously waiting for her to reappear, just to see her beautiful face, to be reassured she was still there somewhere in my life.
I was disappointed a lot, waiting. It seemed that’s all I did is wait, play with the thought of what I’d do when she did come back to me.
As I waited, Grandma taught me how to bake, played with me, made me clothing, and nurtured me as she failed to do for my own mother. It’s like she made up extra for her misgivings when my mom was growing up.
Looking back on it, there was a cycle in generations, and then with my own children as well. I’m sure my own children felt the same when I was away too long and my mother took care of them. I believe my Grandma, my mom and I were good mothers; only we were only taught so much. I think there was something amiss, to have generation after generation repeat the cycle.
We three learned a deeply valuable lesson, all in all. We gave each child something to hold on to, remember, value and learn from. When it all comes down to it, I believe we have a deep bond and care; and with what was dealt to us throughout life, I believe there’s a deep passion and empathy for our family history.
It’s who I’ve become today. Sometimes I cry and become sad; but honestly, I believe life is as it should be now. We all have our own safe places. I’m grateful my children only went through half of what I did; but then, I guess it would be wrong to say what they went through was less than. Maybe I don’t know. I guess I can only hope; and one day I might know just what they honestly felt and what they say through their eyes.”