“Everyone thinks we’re sisters!”, you say and smile brightly at the woman who just asked if we were. “We’re mother and daughter, actually, but yes, we are like sisters.”
You brush your hair back from your face and beam at her.
I do not smile.
Every time you say this, I want to shake you.
Oh, don’t get me wrong; it’s not because you’re older than me, in case you think that, it’s because you are… my mother.
And I need you to be just that.
I already have a sister, I don’t need another one.
I need my mother.
I am your child.
I tried to explain this to you once… tried to explain, that I would love nothing more than to feel like I am your child – just for a little while.
I guess it landed on deaf ears.
You consider me equal.
You ask me to make decisions for you.
You ask me for counsel.
You rely on me.
After all these years, you still have no idea what I need. I love you dearly – you know I do – but sometimes, I wish I could just be the little girl… and curl up in your arms. I wish I could lean on you for a while – feel you comforting me.
I never had that… and you know it, too.
I grew up way too fast, had no choice but to become a woman… independent, tough… and sometimes hard – mostly on myself.
The little girl in me is still there – and she still needs you to care for her. She will always be there.
Maybe, if you could see things from my perspective, you would understand.
I miss you, mom.
I never had you… and I doubt, I ever will.
The little girl in me though… she will never stop hoping.