Dear Maria

Dear Maria,

I've thought about you very little throughout the years.  You gave off the air of being pristine.  You played basketball.  You knew how to be social.  You were an A student.  Your family was perfect.

My family wasn't.  And I was none of those things that you were.

Remember that trip we took to the ocean in Advanced Biology class?  We all slept in small beds in one large dorm.  We cooked out, fed the sea gulls on the beach, did something or other for biology class although I've forgotten what now.  I swam across the bay.  "Like a fish," is what the teacher said.  I can still swim like that.  Long distances with deliberate strokes.  Built for distance but not speed.

I remember your nightgown.  It was white and lacy.  We were all talking before bed one night.  I said I was glad to be away from my mother that weekend.  I was.  "I miss my mother," you said firmly and loudly.  "Well, I don't," I said.  "It's nice to be away."  We were only gone for three and a half days.  I'd already been traveling on my own.  I took buses to visit relatives for a week or two at a time.  I took trains to places that to this day I've never told my mother about.  I was and still am a traveler.  I was forced to be independent, to entertain myself, at times to provide for myself.

You hadn't been forced to do any of those things.  My mother drank rather well.  She married her drinking buddy the second time around.  You had a perfect family.  You had a mother that you were able to miss.  I didn't.  

Did it occur to you to ask why I didn't miss my mother?  Did it occur to you that by your upbringing you were privileged?  You were.  You stank with privilege.

It's years later now.  I am envious.  Yes.  My imagination tells me that yours was the easier softer life.  I don't want to be you.  Don't misunderstand me.  I think I could have gotten used to a life that wasn't so full of abuse.  I could have gotten used to your life.

We were young then.  I was a long distance swimmer.  You were the future.  You were somebody even then.  You could not fail.  You did not fail.  You excelled.  You succeeded.  You memorized the script and you delivered.  I was only a long distance swimmer with a mother that I was not able to miss.

If you ever read this, please don't bother trying to find me.  I am not interested.  What kind of conversation could we have now anyway? I would want to talk about class-ism.  You would want to talk about your wonderful mother aging.

This is not a pity party.  This is reality.  Anger is my truest friend.  The isms keep society sick.  I am rising above and beyond.  I am a long distance swimmer.  I am sister and brother to the flotsam in the bay.

See ya,

sapphoq on life