Member-only story
Extending the Space Between My Mother and Me
I’ m tired of seeing my mother in everything and everyone — especially myself
I am the moon and I am the sea, but I do not find myself anywhere in between, because that is where my mother resides. I am the books I read and I am the cigarettes I smoke, but I do not see myself anywhere in between, because that is where my mother lives.
It was cloudy, the day I looked out of a Berkeley café and realized my mother took up too much space in my world. No sun visible. No Bay Bridge in sight from my dorm room. When it’s cloudy in Berkeley, the haze is thick and the sky can be daunting. All the people in the streets and looking out of café windows seem to share the same look of dread.
It was in my favorite café, right around the time that studying for Fall semester finals was the right thing to do. But I hadn’t been in the habit of doing the right thing for more than a year. This pissed my mother off. My outfit that day also would have pissed her off, along with the queer friend sitting across from me and the smirk spreading slowly across my face. I had on my favorite striped button-up with the sleeves rolled, and loosely fitted pants that made it easy to tuck in my shirt like a well-dressed gentleman. My friend wore a beanie and a polo, and I could tell by the look in her…
