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Rated: E · Other · Emotional · #1394884
Dealing with being a mother without my mother
The day draws too a close. Street lights are turned on, and the lights go off one by one. My boyfriend goes to bed, and I join him, only to find myself wide awake. Turning on the lights, I go straight for the photo album, the one with the pictures of her, pregnant with me.

Sitting on the couch, I start at her beautiful swelling belly, and the glisten of happiness in her eyes. The smile on her face is the one I will always remember. I start to cry as I stare at her hands, the ones that have held me so many times before. The sweet sound of her bellowing laughter, similar too mine.

The silence is unbearable, yet soothing at the same time. Picture after picture I release the saddest emotions so deep within me. I'd rather remember her like she was in these pictures than what I saw her like when she died. The pictures give her, her life back. I can truely see a time she was happy. A time her eyes smiled with her mouth.

Tears drop on the picture and I don't wipe them away at first. I stare at the distored image, until my eyes become blurry with tears.

The kick in my belly wakes me up and I feeze in the midst of my sobs. My son, growing in my belly, pounds on me to stop. Stop crying momma, I love you.

Okay, my darling.

So I close the album, wipe away my tears and try too get some sleep. After all, I'm a Mom now too.
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