And I am told to just forget you
Like I haven’t seen your soul
The way you breath and live
And
How I didn’t show you
Where I hide my scars
And why I don’t cry.

It is Thursday
And my father tells me about
My stepmother.
Apparently she
Has been using a pandemic
To make my father feel inadequate
Because she is a high school teacher
My father never graduated high school
And my little brother is now to be homeschooled.
I tell him I can’t do it anymore
That the negativity is too much
That it sounds like he is making her problems
His own.
That it sounds like
He is still in a relationship
With her.
If she is so insecure
That she must use her profession
To make-up for her ability to mother
It is her problem
And not something we need to address or deal with
Because it is her problem
Not ours.
I tell my father
That he has already divorced her
That he is not in a relationship with her
And need not hold on to her problems
Like we have a stake in them.

That evening
My father is not present
For dinner at 6:30,
Which has become
The custom time we eat dinner
As a family.
This tells me
That what I said
May have been all too accurate.
I wonder if my step mother is right
To criticize him
Right to point out
That he has some **** to deal with
Before he can provide a stable home.
I eat dinner alone
At the dining table.
The only light on in the house
Is in the kitchen and my brother’s bedroom
The rest of the house lies in silence.
I am eating my dinner in the dark
With the lights on.

It is the hight of COVID-19 pandemic
It is said that 1 to 200,000 people
Will die this week.
My mother calls me twice.
The first time
I silence my phone.
She leaves a message
And calls again,
So I answer it,
I tell her I am busy.
She tells me she is outside
And has something for me.
I walk out
Into the unnaturally warm night.
She is in her car
Waiting in the driveway.
She looks thin,
I can see
That she still hasn’t put on the weight
That is natural and becoming
To her body.
I wonder if she has yet
To seek treatment
Or therapy.
She hands me a cd
Wrapped in paper towel
And secured in a plastic sandwich bag.

We are advised to not touch anyone
Who does not live with us
It could further spread the virus.
I have not seen her in at least a year,
But when she reaches out for a hug
I embrace her
As if she has not
Abandoned us.
I still have love for her.

So
When I follow you on Instagram
I am sprouting a seed of forgiveness
Because
Being the bigger person
Does not mean being bitter or stubborn
It means being honest with yourself.
And
I still have love for you.