Friday, November 26, 2004
Momma's Tears
It's been over a month since I was home and sat on this high chair facing the kitchen. My mom was perched over the counter with a sharp knife in her hand. Her eyes were red, and her hair fell to the sides of her face as she tilted her head down. I heard the knife cut through something. I looked up at her and gasped.
"Mom, you're crying!" I said emphatically, half questioning what's wrong.
Her make up was smudged all around her eyes, and black tears of dissolved eyeliner ran down her cheeks. My mom sniffled, and whipped a tear off her cheek with the backside of her hand. "Yeah," she said in a melancholy tone.
"Oh Mom," I pouted, getting ready to get off my chair and head towards her. "Is everything OK?" Seeing my mom cry isn't something that happened often and when it did, it made my body go all mushy inside.
"I'm making your favorite dish," she laughed in a mellow tone between the nose-sniffles and the dark streaks of make-up tears running down her face. "The rice, onion casserole."
"Mom, you're crying!" I said emphatically, half questioning what's wrong.
Her make up was smudged all around her eyes, and black tears of dissolved eyeliner ran down her cheeks. My mom sniffled, and whipped a tear off her cheek with the backside of her hand. "Yeah," she said in a melancholy tone.
"Oh Mom," I pouted, getting ready to get off my chair and head towards her. "Is everything OK?" Seeing my mom cry isn't something that happened often and when it did, it made my body go all mushy inside.
"I'm making your favorite dish," she laughed in a mellow tone between the nose-sniffles and the dark streaks of make-up tears running down her face. "The rice, onion casserole."
