Narrative

Releasing

I awoke on a cold, brisk fall morning. The frigid air had penetrated the walls of my room and made my bed an island of warmth. Rolling on my side, in my plush, toasty bed, I noted that it was four o’clock in the morning and hopped out of bed gleefully. On this particular morning I was more willing than usual to venture out of the comfort of my bed because, the only thing on my mind was being reunited with my mother. After an excruciatingly long seven months, I was finally going to Houston, Texas to spend Thanksgiving Day with her. Within an hour I was headed to Cleveland Hopkins International Airport ready for good company and some delicious food.

My three-hour flight was grueling and uncomfortable. Mostly due to the overweight passenger next to me with a obnoxious snore, but eventually I arrived in Houston. I made my way off the plane, only to be stunned by a sweltering heat that drenched my clothes in sweat. . Pit stained shirt and all I swam down a river of escalators and spotted my mother. She stood pencil thin with ruby red hair shining radiantly, just as I remembered her. She swiftly walked over, and engulfed me in a hug and at last I was consumed with contentment. However, it was short-lived.

We sat down to a table covered with a cerulean blue table cloth just barely visible under the enormous plates of turkey, mashed potatoes, green beans, and my mother’s special cranberry sauce which has been handed down through my her side of the family for generations. We dug into the feast and chit chatted in between bites about life, work and recent soccer events. My mother did most of the talking, which was usually the case. I allowed myself to become lost in the moment and to truly enjoy just being around my mother after her long absence from my life. But just as quickly as I began to enjoy, I began to remember. I began to remember all the resentment I had been harboring towards my mother for the past seven months. Normally, I would bury these emotions and proceed as if the thoughts had never even occurred, but this time was different. After a minute or so of trying to ignore my feelings I simply lost it. I opened my mouth and for the first time in my life, without prying or coaxing, I expressed my true feelings and said, “I’m mad at you.”

“I know” she replied. “I’ve known for a long time that you were mad at me. I was just waiting for you to realize it.”

Two years before I took this trip to see my mother, my parents got divorced and my family was split into two with my mother and I on one side, and my brother and father on the other. There was no speaking between the two. My mother moved to Houston just before my senior year, leaving me to put myself through school and I resented her for that. On that Thanksgiving Day, I found the release of stress just from uttering those four words to my mom. I didn’t know it at the time but it was one of the most important moments in my life. It began my learning of the benefits of communication.
             Communication. Growing up I was taught that emotional communication is essential for any relationship but I also fought with the notion that opening up and expressing your feelings was unmanly or a sign of weakness. All over I saw the idolization of tough men through the media, and I mistakenly felt that this way of coping was healthy and the right thing to do. I let myself be truly open for the first time that day and opened a new door. The resentment I was harboring almost instantly released the moment I vocalized it. I couldn’t believe all the wasted energy I put into hiding behind a strong face.  I was never as close with my mother until I let her know my feelings and that bond has not wavered since. Opening up was one of the most challenging things of done in my life, but I wouldn’t be the person I am now had I not.