I saw her there for the first time some years ago,
Her hair was dark and curly,
It glistened from the corner lamp with a candle that burned slowly. She rocked there back and forth, staring out the window.
The man she chose, whose face I shared, had left to chase a dream.
I felt inclined to touch her, her skin as white as mine,
She turned her head to look at me and then began to cry.
She put me on her lap and said, “Baby, let me tell you a little story.” Her eyes were wet as she first recounted her days of youthful glory.
The year she said...was 1987.
She called him T, he called her M, never a pair as close as them.
He loved her deeply, she loved him madly, but to her mother, he was unworthy.
She cried all day, and cried all night the day she broke his heart,
“But why?” he asked, “Please don’t,” he begged as she began to turn away.
She paused a beat to look at him, to see the face she so adored, but it hurt too much, it was too much, and she quickly shut the door.
Clocks ticked by, weeks trailed on, and years passed before she knew it.
She’d been divorced and left, with two children by her side,
Her dreams of finding what she had with T, died when she became another's bride.
When he was gone, she lost herself.
She cut her hair, she stayed in bed
She spent her days dreaming of a life that she once led.
That’s when he found her.
That’s when she let him take her.
He was a talker, he was a charmer,
He made her feel safe, and important, and wanted.
But what she would learn is that he was no hero.
He was a user, a drunk, and a forceful abuser.
She took it all though, thinking no other good man would want her.
That’s when I saw her there.
She was once again staring out the window.
Her hair had lost color, no longer as dark, but still just as curly. I asked her a question, and she turned looked at me blankly. “Come here my baby, let me add more to the story.”
She said, “T loved me more with each changing season.
He said he’d do anything for me, at least within reason.
We’d talk about our future, I’d take his name,
I’d love him forever, he’d do the same.
But I was so stupid, so scared and so weak.”
More words came out as the tears fell down her cheeks.
That’s when the drunk came in, and saw her hurt and forlorn,
He was as angry as the devil, just missing his horns.
“What is wrong with you? Get up and wash your face,
you look ugly when you cry, come on, get up, pick up the pace!”
It was a few years later that she mustered up some courage,
She filed for divorce and put an end to her terrible second marriage.
Life got better I thought, after he left our home,
but she still sat there at the window and sad and all alone.
Her hair was still curly, but it was losing its bounce,
It had gone grey in the long years with that louse.
I asked her, “Why do you sit here day in and day out?
There’s still a world out there, more to love, more to learn about. It’s time to finally chase your dreams! You can start anew!
You can be anyone, there’s nothing you can’t do!”
She looked at me and smiled grimly,
“Ah my child, you are sweet, but don’t act silly.
It’s over for me. There’s no future that’s bright.
I let go of my dreams when I said goodbye that night.
There was once a time. when I was like you,
I believed in miracles and heaven,
but that was another time and place...it was 1987.”
I looked at her in disbelief.
How could she be so lost?
How terrible it must be to believe she’d done so wrong that she must pay such a cost.
I saw her there just last night, just talking to herself,
I thought that she was praying until she put
something into a book up on the shelf.
When she went to bed, I was curious to know
what she had held.
I quietly opened the book and found a
photograph.
It was of a boy, who appeared not much older
than myself.
It was black and white with weathered edges on
the side.
Why did she feel this was something she should
hide?
On the back there was something handwritten.
It read: T, 1987