Mama Hold My Hand

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Race the Clock.”

Did we have a fight, a parting of ways, opposing views on a lightening-rod topic?  “Not that I can think of.” is always my reply to those questions–the subject of which, are the helpful suggestions as to the possible cause of the parent-daughter relationship shared with my parents. I wish I had a “Yes” for one of those questions. I wish I knew if there was a first-cause, cause. I’ve always been independent. I’ve always been a fighter–wanted to struggle my way to the end, fight for whatever I got, not have something handed to me or made easier for me. I’ve always needed to process things in my own way in my own time before sharing. My heart is tucked inside, not on my sleeve. I’m a problem-solver, not a creative. That is by virtue of genetics, not out of want…oh how I would enjoy to have a creative side to me. In so many ways I am my father’s daughter.

“If anyone can handle all the details, you can.” Those nine words are packed to brim. I’m sure I’ve put most of the weight on the words. But after hearing them dished out following one too many disclosures of major life challenges and frustrations, I’ve come to abhor those words. They feel cheap and useless. Like me now that I have no hope of working again and have to live in an assisted living facility. No, actually, I can’t handle all the details of life.

I take these ten minutes now, and with Aloe Blacc’s mellifluous voice singing  harmony and carrying the creative weight of this piece, to say: Mama Hold My Hand. My life is only what you’ve seen. I hurt, I struggle, I’m weak, I’m scared. Uncertainty is so omnipresent that I’ve grown comfortable with the feeling. I’m still not the daughter who will first run to Mom and Dad, but I’m always the daughter the daughter who wants your arms there to run into. Please don’t confuse  my determination  for  a lack of  need or want.

If  ever you heard these words when trying to help: “Mama leave my hand, I’ve been waiting to cross this road by myself, cross this road by myself.” Please now hear these words: “Mama hold my hand; I don’t think I can cross this road by myself. Mana hold my hand, I don’t think I can cross this road by myself.”

Love you both villions.

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