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My Mother always says
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My Mother always says |
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Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049California 
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My Mother always says My mother always says, "Growing up isn’t easy." When she says it, she’s usually referring to the color of my hair, or the number of earrings I have in one ear. The last time she said it was when my boyfriend honked, instead of coming to the door. She turned on the couch, where she was casually looking at a magazine, (actually she was waiting to measure this guy with her mom-ruler) and said, "how rude to sit out there and honk. It’s like he’s whistling for his dog, don’t you think Dear?" Dear, in this instance was my father, but the comment was really meant for me. Dad said, "hmmmm," like he always does. When I said, "Mom, we’re going to be late for the show, I’ve got to go," that’s when she said, "growing up isn’t easy." Anyway, I used to think, that what she was really saying was that being a mother wasn’t easy, or just wait ‘til you’re a mother, then you’ll understand. I usually just rolled my eyes. Sometimes my mom is so annoying. She’s right though, growing up isn’t easy. I’m sixteen, almost seventeen, and so far a lot of things about growing up haven’t been easy. I’m really confused about boys and love, and sex especially. Seems like that’s all I think about and talk about with my friend Judy. But, there are a lot of good things about growing up too. Sometimes I see something or feel something that makes me just so happy, like the sun on my face, after a week of rainy days. Lately, I’ve been thinking about those good things. I started doing it because of an assignment I had in class, "write down the things that made you feel good". It really got me thinking; like, for instance, my house and my yard and my crazy cat, Psycho make me feel good. The teacher who gave us this assignment makes me feel good. She’s my favorite teacher. Her name is Lovey Coffman. Can you believe someone being named Lovey. It’s her real name, and she fits it, that’s just the way she is, Lovey. She teaches math, but we talk a lot about other things. She said she used to take all the little things for granted until she almost died in a car accident. Afterwards she saw more beauty in life, and things that she never noticed before, became important. When I thought about what she said, I realized that I take things for granted too. I never thought before about how good that Psycho cat makes me feel just purring and rubbing against my legs and getting in my lap and cuddling like I was the most important thing in her life. Just patting her and giving her all that pleasure makes me feel good. She’s not just a cat, she’s my cat. Another good things is the plum tree in the back yard. It’s all white with blossoms right now. I go out there and lay under it in the dirt and I feel something bigger than I know how to say. It fills me with this sweet feeling that is awesome. Sex, has been the most confusing part of growing up. Mom has told me stories about how it was in the 50’s when she was my age. She said she never even knew about birth control until she was 17, and that having sex with a boy was out of the question anyway. She talks to me about condoms and jellies and the pill and IUDs as if she is discussing which breakfast is most nutritional. Even though she talks to me about sex a lot, sometimes I feel like there’s some mysterious secret that no one is telling me. From what I can tell from all the movies I’ve seen and books I’ve read, love is what makes sex something special. I want to know about love. Anyway, my mom says what she thinks most of the time. We have had some pretty animated discussions about abortion. Mom is pro-life. She thinks that all life is precious and has a purpose. She doesn’t believe in capital punishment either. I’m not sure how I feel. I think there are some situations that a new life should be kept out of. For instance, I heard the story of a girl that was older than me, eighteen, I think. The story was that she got pregnant by her own brother and had an abortion. Mom says she wants me to talk to her about anything, but there are some things that I haven’t been able to talk to her about, like for instance "The Virgin Club". Me and my best friend Judy started this club when we were fifteen. Well, maybe it’s not a club, because we’re the only members, but we don’t do a lot of advertising. You can’t just go around asking who’s a virgin. That would be so embarrassing. Judy and I made a pact that we wouldn’t go all the way unless we were really and truly in love. Dan is my boyfriend. We go to the same school. Dan and I have been going out together for about four months. I know I’m not in love with him. Love is something like the plum tree, I think, awesome. Dan is more like a friend. So far everything has been cool, we do a lot of making out and stuff but that’s as far as it goes. I’ve told him I don’t want to go all the way. At first he understood, but lately he’s been pressuring me. He says he loves me and that I’m driving him crazy. "He wants me bad," those are his words. My friend Judy says that if he loves me then he’ll love me more if I hold my ground. She wants to wait to have sex until she’s married. She’s a little old fashioned and says that sex before marriage is against her moral beliefs. She says to remember that no birth control is 100% guaranteed to keep you from getting pregnant. Sometimes she sounds just like my mom. . The problem is that I would really like to see what all the hype is about, you know. I don’t really want to wait till I get married. Maybe I’ll never get married. I know it will be a long time before I do. How could I ever love someone so much that I’d want to spend my whole entire life with them? I want to be a doctor first. That takes forever. Oh, and I would also like to see other places, go to Europe, help people, or maybe set up a clinic in India or something. Maybe I’m just too young to even consider having sex, but I think about it all the time anyway. Then, I found something that my mom wrote. She’s into creative writing. She writes all kinds of poetry and stuff. I really haven’t seen much of it, she keeps it kind of private, but what I’ve read is kind of hard to understand. She’s a lot deeper than she seems. It was on the desk, folded, but just lying there. I didn’t mean to snoop or anything, I was writing a paper for English and I opened it and started to read it and then, well, I just had to read it all. *** Mom’s paper The Small Death of 1963 In the 50’s, style was petticoats and orange lipstick, and beer was the drug of choice. Our family had dinner together and watched Father Knows Best. Going steady and making out in the back seat of a car was what nice girls did. Bad girls went all the way, slept around, got pregnant sometimes and disappeared. The only birth control I knew about was a condom, and nice girls didn’t go to the drug store for anything but ice cream sodas, that left self control as the only option, along with guilt. Sex wasn’t talked about, it was giggled about at slumber parties. I sailed through those years and into my senior prom obeying all the rules. When I was 19 I fell in love. He was 29 and moving on with his life. He was leaving, without any regret, to make something of his life at a big, fancy university. I wanted him to say "I can’t live without you, come with me," or "I can’t live without you I’m going to stay." He said neither. I followed him. He didn’t whistle, although I must have seemed like a dog waiting for him to say "heel." "In pursuit of higher education," I lied to the questioning parents. In pursuit of love, I whispered to my heart. I left my sheltered life for the grassy hills and idealism of a university. It was like plunging from a diving board into a swimming pool and finding out you were in the middle of the ocean instead. When I arrived, he had already disappeared into the paperback books, madras skirts and coffee houses of intellectual pleasure. Once in a while he would call. We would ride on his scooter out of the crowded corridors of knowledge, to the hills where the buildings and roads were manageable, and the song from the bell tower less formidable. He shot golf balls into the net’s waiting arms and I watched the fog creep across San Francisco bay. Sometimes he would take me home to his one room with the mattress on the floor. "We’ll study," he said. "Bring your books," he said. He studied while I memorized the colors of the fabric on his shirt, considered the glaze of his skin against the twilight desk lamp and watched the dark curls against his neck, caress his skin. He laid his books down on the bed and stroked the printed paper, then turned to me. I loved him with the purity of youthful madness, and he responded to the silken moment and melted into me with the carelessness of his arching back, and forgot to leave, before leaving his seed scattered and searching. Four months later I knew I was pregnant. "Lets get married and be a family," I said, thinking at last I would be with the man I loved, forever. "I’m not ready to get married," he said. "There’s only one thing to do." He asked a girl he knew to be my companion. "She knows what to do," he said. Callowness doesn’t know what direction to take. There are no sign posts to tell it which way to go. I let myself be led. There was a certain gray quality to that morning. It pressed into my skin, held my steps back, prevented the perfect breath. I could feel it hitch there in my throat as I tried not to take it in fully, but, of course I had to breathe. I couldn’t just decide that today I didn’t like the quality of the air and choose not to. The car whined, purred then choked, a living thing, a cohort, a companion in this agony of breathing. She was beside me, red hair corking out the window, disturbing the air with its exuberance, its fiery threads. She was supposed to be my protector, my teacher, she was the one who knew the way into this dark place where I had never been. I didn’t know her, not really, her story was locked and my gaze didn’t shift the stillness of her voice into telling. She must have done this too, I thought. How else would she know about the doubt and feel of the tangled ropes of death and forgiveness battling in my bowels? I could tell by the tilt of her eyes and the way she watched me that she knew first-hand. We squeezed into another country, past border guards and brightly colored pedestrians and when I turned to question her face, Death was in her eyes. Then I understood finally and forever what I was going to do. Into the streets of noisy faces and the congestion of smells, like ripe sewage leaking into the air, we drove. I heard the cry of a baby and held the small swelling of my body to protect it from the blaring horns and the poverty of empty faces that insisted on being present. Like a puppet, I followed her to the cracked corner, past the swollen silent buildings, passed the glass tomb store fronts and into the white room. I wanted her to take me back to where I left the person that I was; back before that long night of heavy breathing and naked brown eyes; back before I thought that being his was all I wanted to be; before the legs tangled, before he melted like warm honey into the sanctuary of my girlhood. I thought I would explode onto the ceiling of that room and paint the white, sterile walls with the blood of a that blissful union. I remember wishing I could push that careless creation into "pause." Just wait, I said, till I am a little older, till I can be who I want to be, till I can be your mother. You deserve a mother. She held my hand in the fog that descended on that day into my memory, and when I could see again, the tiny agony of life, glued to the fabric and central core of me was gone. She held my hand still. Her freckled, long fingers trapped the small beige flutter of mine, as she pulled me into the evening. When I returned to him later, after the white sheet confusion of day had moved into the dark and moonless fact of evening, I saw him for the first time, my vision cleared by the truth of what had happened. "Let’s have a beer to celebrate," he said. *** I had just finished reading and was folding the papers back up when I felt my mom’s hand on my back. I jumped, surprised, and then I felt awful because she caught me reading her stuff. "It’s OK," she said. "I wanted you to read it. That’s why I put it there where you’d find it." I felt so sad about love and life and that small death that I just started to cry. I couldn’t help it. |
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| © Copyright 1999 Martie Odell Ingebretsen - All Rights Reserved | |||
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JennyLee Senior Member
since 1999-09-01
Posts 1461Northwestern, NJ. |
I enjoyed this so much. Great stuff and a thought-provoking read!! Thanks for sharing this....growing up is hard...but being grown-up is even harder.  Jenny ------------------ Love is an attempt at penetrating another being,But it can only succeed if the surrender is mutual. |
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Christopher
Moderator
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-08-02
Posts 8296Purgatorial Incarceration |
WOW! Wonderful way to throw out differing viewpoints, though not too different...interesting! |
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Ben Pike Junior Member
since 1999-11-14
Posts 20Southwestern Virginia |
The interuption of the narraotor's voice with that of the mother works very well. One would expect the voice to be perhaps similar while the mother's more mature, and that seems to hold. A small point: when a character begins talking for the first time in a sentance, even if it is in the midst of the sentance, the first word of dialog is capitalized. So in the word 'how' should be capitalized in: She turned on the couch, where she was casually looking at a magazine, (actually she was waiting to measure this guy with her mom-ruler) and said, "how rude to sit out there and honk..." Also, it is "illegal" (haha) to have two characters speaking in the same paragraph. So this sentance would have to be two paragraphs: When I said, "Mom, we’re going to be late for the show, I’ve got to go," that’s when she said, "growing up isn’t easy." I don't understand how a math teacher gave a writing assignment. I really liked this line (and the logic behind it, and the way the narrator explained what she thought using this simile): " Love is something like the plum tree, I think, awesome. Dan is more like a friend." So we get a young woman reaching a crux in her life and finding her mother right behind her. Not only is this a welcome glimmer of hope but it is written so I can believe the whole thing and do not find the tears at the end at all out of place nor over-stated. I'm glad to have had the chance to read this. ------------------ "Jesus answered them, Is it not written in your law, I said, Ye are gods?" John 10:34 |
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Janet Marie Member Laureate
since 2000-01-22
Posts 18554 |
martie, im just sitting here with my mouth hanging open while reading this. you are an amazing writer I HAVE to bring this back up, as I saw how all the others are enjoying your other one.. and this beauty's message needs to see the light of day again later-prose-gator  jm |
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Marge Tindal 
since 1999-11-06
Posts 42384Florida's Foreverly Shores |
Martie~ I can't even begin to tell you just how much I enjoyed reading this piece. Hon, it's wonderful. I really enjoyed the change from the mother/daughter to the letter by mother. What a lesson it taught. Mom's are pretty smart ... So very, very well done, my friend. I have a group of teens that I work with and would like to share it with them at our gathering next week. Wonderful, lady. ~*Marge*~ ~*The pen of the poet never runs out of ink, as long as we breathe.*~ noles1@totcon.com |
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lorilockheart Member
since 2000-05-06
Posts 206Alabama |
Martie, I was glued in until the very end. I absolutely loved the voice of the girl. The way you wrote her thoughts gave such insight to who she was as a character. Lori ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean. Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens. Promise me you'll give faith a fighting chance. And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance - I hope you dance. song by LeeAnn Womack ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ |
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Munda Member Elite
since 1999-10-08
Posts 3544The Hague, The Netherlands |
Martie, a very well written story. I enjoyed reading this very much. You captured the problems of growing up, as well as the "secret" and difficulty of the parent very well. Well done !  |
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Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049California |
A belated thank you to Jenny Lee, Christopher and Ben... Janet Marie--thank you for bring this back up..It is one of my favorites...I apprecaite your comments so much! Marge--I would be honored to have you share this at your gathering...thanks, my friend. Lori--I'm so glad the voice of the girl was real to you...It's been a long time since I was one...and things are so different. Munda--thank you so much for the wonderful comments in reply to this story. It means alot to me. |
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Dark Angel Member Patricius
since 1999-08-04
Posts 10095 |
Growing up is hard! This is a great read Martie, very touching and thought provoking, the ending gave me shivers. Loved it all! Maree |
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Dark Stranger Member Patricius
since 2001-03-19
Posts 13631West Coast |
girls to women the hard way? you speak from both sides of the skin martie enjoyed this work |
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GOlDsparklESS Member
since 2001-12-13
Posts 428central nj |
hmmm.. Good story, and poignant too! You are an "awesome" writer. |
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Kethry Member Rara Avis
since 2000-07-29
Posts 9082Victoria Australia |
Fabulous story of how growing up isn't easy from both viewpoints. Really well written. Kethry Here in the midst of my lonely abyss, a single joy I find...your presence in my mind. Unknown |
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Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049California |
Maree-I always appreciate your resplies and friendship. DS--Both sides of the skin, you say it true. GOlDsparklESS--Thanks so much for the reply and the awesome. Kethry--Thanks for reading this story..parts of which are a true experience that means alot to me. |
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Gemini Senior Member
since 1999-12-15
Posts 1203Wisconsin, USA |
Martie, I am overwhelmed reading this. Your writes are always so captivating and descriptive. There is so much pain and wisdom in growing up, sometimes we take so much for granted, thank you for bringing it all back into focus. |
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Magnus
since 2001-10-10
Posts 14135South Carolina, USA |
So difficult growing up in a world where the pressures of life and the pressure of our own bodies and feelings....cause us to seek love....thinking that true love and commitment is just around the corner of every 18 year old's future...when in reality... Just the opposite happens too often.... This is a beautiful write....so vivid and so true to life....A woman child who has seen the anguish of her mother after having aborted what might have been a brother or sister of the very same woman child.... I know this feel....very much so.... I have walked this parallel mile... |
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skyshine
since 2002-02-07
Posts 3058Beneath the northern stars |
That was really interesting, Martie. Sort of a twist at the end...well done!  --Beth Howl at the stars, whisper when you're sleeping, I'll be there to hold you, I'll be there to stop the chills and all the weeping. |
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skyshine
since 2002-02-07
Posts 3058Beneath the northern stars |
Oops forgot to add to the library. Howl at the stars, whisper when you're sleeping, I'll be there to hold you, I'll be there to stop the chills and all the weeping. |
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vlraynes Member Rara Avis
since 2000-07-25
Posts 8229Somewhere... out there... |
Martie~ This touches so deeply...I can't even begin to tell you to what extent I 'felt' this. You are such an incredible writer, and this story took me on such a rollercoaster of emotions. I'm sitting here with a huge lump in my throat and tears in my eyes...this speaks to my heart. I'm so glad you chose to share this and I can certainly understand why it's one of your favorites. Hugs to you, friend.  ~Vicky "...until you have read the verse on his heart, you have not truly met the poet. ~vlraynes [This message has been edited by vlraynes (12-27-2002 12:53 AM).] |
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kitkat Senior Member
since 2000-01-11
Posts 878Nova Scotia |
An amazing story. It kept my full attention. You have talent. Keep on writing. Life is a story waiting to happen..Go on.... Create, Live and Love |
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ShadowRider Senior Member
since 2001-07-14
Posts 1038USA |
You have the eye of a soul-archer with your words. Lines link together, but never in cliche fashion, and always with an initial jolt that melds in understanding. I think a book of these type of stories would do well as both fiction, non-fiction, and philosophy. I mean this sincerely, Marti, and not just because we are friends: you have the gift of being able to write naturally, without the overthinking of pretense, and with the gift of original thought. I can almost see the innate flow occuring from your brain to keys. Few have this gift; fewer still know what to do with it. Ah, you have both within your grasp. Jeff |
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Wesley the Blue Member
since 1999-09-02
Posts 426Forest Lake, MN, USA |
This is a very wonderful piece of work. I truely enjoyed reading it. Growing up is defenitely not easy, one could only be lucky enough to have a mother like yours. My parents were never very open with me so I had to learn about things like love and sex on my own, I think I would have much prefered parents like the ones in the story. Keith |
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Ratleader
since 2003-01-23
Posts 7026Visiting Earth on a Guest Pass |
I think this is a story whose time has come....and that it belongs in Today's Topics -- today. ~~(¸¸¸¸ºº> ~~(¸¸¸¸ºº> ~~(¸¸ ¸¸ºº> ~~~(¸¸ER¸¸ºº> |
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Larry C
since 2001-09-10
Posts 10286United States |
Ed, Thank you kind sir for bringing this to today. Martie, Morsels of such value here and there flesh out a picture that grows only clearer and more loving. Written with class as usual. I'm so glad I got to read this wonderful piece.  If tears could build a stairway and memories a lane, I'd walk right up to heaven and bring you home again. |
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart |
I am ashamed I did not see this before today. However, your talent precedes you now; whenever I see a Martie poem that I cannot quite recall, or a prose piece I know I have not read...well... then now, and ever more, is the time to indulge. When, my dear Sister, are you going to go to print? It's time. |
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Ixtab Member
since 1999-06-23
Posts 105MEXICAlpan de las tunas |
excellent, held my attention completely, you are trully gifted. |
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Ixtab Member
since 1999-06-23
Posts 105MEXICAlpan de las tunas |
beatuiffully written, truly a work of art. |
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aziza Member Elite
since 2006-07-09
Posts 2995Lumpy Oatmeal makes me Crazy! |
I savored every word you wrote. I'd read and them take a break to come back for more. I didn't want your words to stop. Not only did you take me back to a time of such important questions ... you showed me your beauty. I am your newest fan. aziza |
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aziza Member Elite
since 2006-07-09
Posts 2995Lumpy Oatmeal makes me Crazy! |
I also wanted to add that I am in awe of the relationship that you have with your mother. It's beautiful. |
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Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049California |
Aziza....The first part is mostly fiction...although some is based on the facts of my youth. My mother has been gone for many years and I am much much older...but the second part of the story is very true and happened to me when I was in my early 20's. Thank you so much for reading!! |
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the_girl_next_door Senior Member
since 2006-02-26
Posts 591USA |
WOW!! that's all I can say.. I'm young.. growing up as we speak. This really opened new thoughts for me and new ways of viewing thing.. GREAT JOB! ~Heather~ Desire nothing except desirelessness. Hope for nothing except to rise above all hopes. |
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