As I drove past the aging building, memories swirled in my head. My childhood memories of maman were bittersweet. Poverty is a hard master and one that overwhelmed my mother. She should have been born in a genteel environment, and loved unconditionally by her man. Instead she toiled night and day within crumbling walls for a drunkard who barely made ends meet. Even I, who did love her unconditionally, left her to die in squalor when I took flight. My regret is that I came back too late. Too late to give her comfort and the joy that she deserved. Too late to give her life.

Are memories of your mother bittersweet?

© Colline Kook-Chun, 2018

(This post was inspired by Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle. The challenge asks for bloggers to write a story in 100 words or less in response to the photo prompt.)

15 thoughts on “Maman

  1. Your memories are powerful and moving. I too have similar regrets about my early childhood. This is good to get out on paper for the benefit of others. Thank you for your becoming vulnerable with your past to help us all move toward a better future.


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