7- A Mother's Warmth

I've always been afraid of confrontation. I have spent minutes, hours, days, months and years hiding from the eyes of people so that I didn't need to control them. I can hardly contain the tears in my eyes which are threatening to fall. My eyes linger at the petition figure, working in the kitchen. How do I face her?

It brings back memories. Back in the golden days, I would find my mom in the kitchen when I came back home after a long day. Somehow she would know it beforehand if I had a bad day. So, I would find her making grilled cheese and tomato soup; my comfort food. Gone are those days, what remains is the silhouette of her memories engraved in my mind.

There stands the woman who is supposed to be my biological mother. Who, for some reasons unknown to me, decided to erase me from her life. And here I stand, watching her, my cat in my hand, longing for the love I never received from her. How do I confront her when I can't even trust my own voice? My heart is hammering against my