MY THOUGHTS ON THE SUBJECT ARE AS FOLLOWS

My truth. My life.

missing love

Hi Everyone,  This is a story that I have been working on. I would love thoughts and comments on it. Thanks

 

It had been almost 20 years since that awful day that she would never forget.  The fliers, the endless searches, the milk cartons, nothing seemed to help her.

“Eileen, come on.  I want you to see this piece.” The annual art show was was one of her favorite outings. Something she looked forward to. All of the proceeds of the show went to the children shelter she volunteered at.

“Eileen? What’s your obsession with that piece?”

It took me a while to gather up the words, the strength to talk.  “That girl in this painting.  Thats her. Emily.  My daughter…..”  I dont remember much else that happened that day.

It was mid afternoon 3 days after the art show that I entered her office.  I had finally worked up the courage to meet with her. The one who perfectly captured my missing daughters face.  The art she displayed was breathtaking, proving that she had a true rare talent. A talent very similar to my own mother.  “I hear you are interested in one of my pieces?”  I turned slowly to see who had spoken.  Her voice sounded so familar that it took me off gaurd.  I wasnt prepared for this. It took me a moment but somehow I gained the courage to look at her.  I found myself looking directly into her eyes. I felt as though I was staring into a mirror.  One of those mirrors that made you look 20 years younger.  I looked at her, then looked at the door. I looked back at her and then turned and walked out, frightened as to what this meant.

I returned to my condo and locked the doors.  I felt my stomach rumbling letting me know that I needed to eat something.  I knew that if I dared to put food to my mouth, my nerves would not allow it to stay down.  I turned off all of my lights, and turned on my television.  Hidden under my bed was a box that I had not allowed myself to look at for years.  It was time.  I dusted off the top, took the key out of my dresser and unlocked it.  I placed the tape in the vcr and watched the movies of my beautiful baby girl playing with her toys, looking up at me calling my name.  “mamma” Sleeping that night was not an option.

I found myself parked on the corner street in front of her gallery. The same place I have found myself almost everyday since I left her office weeks ago.  I waited patiently just to have a glimpse of her. I have had ample opportunity to walk in there, confront her and tell her the truth.  My truth. She was mine. My past, My future, My heart and My life. She was my daughter.

The sound of rain was interrupted by a knock. Startled into reality from another daydream, I turned. “Mam, Why are you following me?” “Who are you?”

I felt my head spinning as I started to speak. Trying to find the right words to say at this very wrong time felt impossible.  She asked again.  “Who are you?”  I managed to whisper.  “Im sorry to worry you. You remind me of someone I lost 20 years ago. My.. ”  She interrupted me politely.  “Mam, You look like you are going to be sick.”  I guess its a myth that if you truly love someone you can tell them anything.  I couldnt seem to make my head, heart and mouth connect.  Now was my chance, and Im blowing it.

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One thought on “missing love

  1. very suspenseful in a real way….more please

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