If Only For One Night

From the words of Luther Vandross:

Let me hold you tight…

If only for one night….

Let me keep you near…

To ease away your fear…

It would be so nice…

If only for one night…

Now I know he’s talking about a forbidden love between lovers. I wish with all my heart to have just one more night…one more day…one more minute…one more second…

The oldest just started her “real life” with working hours that get her up way before the roosters start crowing. She doesn’t have time to call or Facetime her dear old mother any more. She has time for her man, social activities, shopping and even kayaking (no really). All the important people need a penciled in spot on her calendar.

I just need that voice every now and then. A little fix! I need to be wanted just a little bit. The simple, “I love you”, I miss you or I hope your having a good day. But as much as it saddens me to not speak to her every other day, I don’t push. I’m happy that she’s coming into her own, plus I am not a NAG.

A door slams…angry sounding steps coming down the stairs. A blur breezes past the couch where I am sitting. No hello’s…just a “Prudence, can I?” Some bullshit request comes out of those lips and off of the ungrateful tongue of a high school teenager. I sit there ready to go on the defense… It’s always: Can I? Will you? I need…

The middle one will sneak past me on the couch when she comes home. She will give a quick hello if you are lucky. When you start to ask her questions or tell her to do something simple you get…the look. The eat shit and die look. Then the response flies out her mouth so quick and muted that you have to ask 10 times what she said. Until she says can I go? Will you drop me off? Please, Mom! Mom please!!!

I remember real conversations. I remember when your first thought was my mom’s a hero. Now their first thought is “this bitch!” (only in their head of course…they aren’t crazy…they know that I don’t play that shit…) None of them know what I know. God forbid that they find out what I know anytime soon.

Let me hold you tight…

If only for one night…

I’m so jealous. This is a miserable feeling. I lie awake at night wishing, wishing, wishing…

To hear her voice.

To feel her touch.

To hear her cuss.

To hear her fuss.

See…they don’t know how much I long for my mother. They don’t see the real tears that come out of these eyes when I have a major milestone or just want to talk to her about ANYTHING. For some reason my mind wanders back to the age of four or five. I’m sitting on the floor, between her knees, getting my hair combed. I hated the hot comb, pony tails, plaits and the crazy clothes that she dressed me in. I was in such a hurry to be old enough to get my hair done by my dad and to dress myself.

Today! Right now! At this very minute…I would kill to be sitting on the floor getting that time back.

It’s not fun being the mother of and adult and teenage children. I miss that need…the want to be in the same space with them. I miss hearing about their day and the excitement that each new day brings. I figure by the time one of the girls likes me again it should be right around the same time my son slips into the non-mom phase of his life.

I feel like I am torn. Torn between wanting to be a kid again so I can have my own mom and torn between wanting to be their mom.

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