‘the quiet’

nobody can describe to you the feeling of introducing your parents to the world for the first time.

you, as the child, now experiencing their firsts, capturing them on a camcorder, holding their hand through a breakup.

on my momma’s 60th birthday, my sister and I took her to a waterfall,

her first one.

she stood at the top of the trail looking down at it, knowing the rest of the trail would take us right to the base and all the way behind it.

she didn’t want to leave the top.

she stood there, in disbelief of the beauty.

her eyes wider than i had ever seen.

her smile, free.

she couldn’t believe it.

i thought

how many years has she gone not knowing what she loves,

not seeing waterfalls.

-

this year, as her birthday came around things looked different.

between last year to now, she was getting a divorce,

the whole family turned upside down from drama that is simply too stupid and complicated to even map out,

and with moving out of her and my ex-stepdad’s house,

she was moving into her own place.

“i’ve never had a place to myself where i didn’t need to take care of someone else, i can’t believe it”

even though i could take her excitement the wrong way,

i didn’t.

i don’t do that anymore.

i see her now,

i see her as a single mother to three,

i see her as the housewife,

i see her as the caretaker,

i see her as a young 20 year old girl who wanted to be a horseback rider who watched her dream slip away,

but most importantly,

i can see her now.

60

grabbing her coat

ready to taste life again.

and i want to celebrate that.

-

i ask what she is looking forward to most on her first night in her new place-

‘the quiet’, she says.

‘and getting to play my music as loud as i want to’

i write this as i wrap up a sonos speaker she would never spend her money on, and leave a note attached.

i hope it’s what she’s always wanted.

i can hear her blasting county all the way from here.