Mother’s Day Flower
She tried to make me give him a flower. It wasn’t fair. I refused. No. I will not give him flowers. That’s stupid.
“He’s your daddy, and he’s being your mommy too.”
Oh, really? And who’s fault is that? Not mine. I’m 10 years old, and all I have is a father. My mother is gone. I hardly ever see her, and it’s his fault. I will not give him flowers. I will not reward him for the pain he has caused me. I refuse.
“Show some appreciation. He does everything for you. Pays your school fees, makes your breakfast, packs your lunch…”
I don’t care. These things happen when you have children. You grow up, and you have to do things that you may not have had to do if you didn’t have them. Moreover, when you drive your children’s mother out of their lives, there are gaps you have to fill in. No. I will not give him flowers. I will not make him feel good about what is he doing. He is doing it because of what he has done.
“Just give him the flowers for Mothers Day. It won’t take anything off you.”
No, it won’t. Because I won’t do it. I will not do the wrong thing. Just because you’re an adult doesn’t mean I have to listen to you. I will not give my father flowers for his slaps, punches, pushes, angry words, high speed chases, and embarrassing scenes. I will not. You cannot make me.
“You are being ungrateful. Why are you so uncaring?”
This is what happens. This is the result. I got tired of feeling, so I gave myself over to numbness. This is much better. Give me that ginger lily. I’ll give it to him. I will hand it to him like my school bag. Something to carry for me. It’s the least he can do. I carry so much because of him. Not for him. Never for him. But because of him. And when I take the ginger lily back from him, I hope he knows what it means. That I am taking back every care I ever had. I am taking back that unconditional love that children give to their parents. I am taking back my trust. I am taking back that flower. He does not deserve, and he can’t keep it. He can only carry it until I’m ready to take it back.
No, I did not give him the flower. He didn’t deserve it. And neither did I. I didn’t deserve any of it. None of the things he did to me, intentionally or unintentionally. I certainly was not going to do something to myself that I didn’t deserve. I refused to lie. A gift to him would have been a lie. A lie I refused to tell. I kept that ginger lily, hidden away. When he found it, it was dead. Just like everything inside his little girl.
