My Mothers Tears

My job was to scream my speech to the world, to educate them in the days of the 80’s. It was a very special day, because I had a big project due and that was the day they buried an extremely important person within the community. It shook the town, but most of all changed my mother.

Ten other people and I were giving a speech in a room with forty other people who would not stop buzzing. They walked around and viewed our art. I smelled the reek of body odor in the way-to-hot room. I was stressed to make the grade. I kept looking from my paper to the audience.

I had attracted the attention of a few people when my mother appeared. Her face was red, her eyes had bags under them, and her hair was a mess, I could tell she had been crying. Many people could have been looking at her, but she wouldn’t take her eyes of me. She didn’t move she didn’t even blink. I could have been addressing the audience, but her eyes were on me so intently that I never looked at any one else. Every time I looked down at the paper, and then looked back at my mother, she would be closer.

She walked right up to me, while I was giving my speech she placed a hand on my cheek so lovingly like I was what she was looking for all along. If I had cried I would have lost my speech, so drastic measures brought my voice to say “Mom, I have a speech to do. Go away.”

And she just smiled and said, “Okay.”

Her friend was just buried, her daughter told her to get away. The moment I was alone I cried for the both of us. I was so ashamed of myself.