After Extracting My Bone Marrow, My Mother Regretted It

To welcome Mom back home, I made a big feast.

I knew what she liked to eat.

I wanted her to enjoy it, to see a satisfied smile on her face, and maybe even get her to smile at me.

In my memories, Mom always looked cold toward me.

She walked into the kitchen with Blake, her face soft and smiling – only for him.

I told myself that after she tasted my cooking, she would smile at me too.

After Mom left, I lived with my grandma until she passed away a few years ago, leaving me to live alone.

When I was six, other kids said I was a jinx for not having parents.

But I knew I had a mom.

After she left, I would cry and throw tantrums, begging to find her.

Grandma told me Mom ran off with someone.

I wouldn’t listen; I kept demanding to see Mom.

Grandma tried to explain, giving me all sorts of reasons, but none worked on my stubbornness.

Finally, she changed her story.

She said Dad had died, and with no income, Mom left to save money for me, so I wouldn’t go hungry.

I believed her.

How could a mother not love her child?

All the other moms around loved their kids.

So I was convinced my mom loved me too.

She must have had her reasons for leaving, and I was sure she would come back.

From that day on, I finally stopped crying and throwing fits.

I stared at the big bag of potatoes in the corner, tears streaming down my face like a string of broken pearls.

I decided I’d eat half a portion less each day, so when Mom came back, she wouldn’t have to worry about running out of food for me.

And I did just that.

Now, Mom was finally back.