By the time she was 11, it was like she had become the wife and mother of the house, She knew why she should. After all, it was told to her often enough. She had babies to raise, whether or not they were out of her own womb. It’s not that she didn’t care… but really? When was she supposed to be a child? It’s not like she could complain though. It needed to be done, and if she didn’t… who would? So she did.
Till dad crept into her bed drunk, though they tried to say that was a delusion. Who did she think she was, Lot’s Daughter? She got sadder, angrier, less cooperative,..till dad kicked her out when she was 15. There was another daughter who could take over till the new wife was instated. Apparently she was replaceable. They could manage without her.
She fell into a tailspin. Trying to replace the babies and Lot with every man who looked at her. Her soul missed them, but it also missed the childhood she hadn’t been allowed to finish. She lived a confused version of those needs as a result.
Just over 20, she got married to a Lot version and had her first child. But the baby fought for place with her inner child and her husband wasn’t a copy of Lot, quite like she had thought he was. So they separated. Lot kept intruding on her relationships. Her son had so many candidates for a dad, except for his own. He almost had a sibling too, till she had a second term abortion. Which eventually caused an hysterectomy.
She couldn’t keep a job, a man and her health was a mess. Her son was passed from pillar to post. Just so long as he rarely went to granddad’s. She had given her childhood to that man, but he had nothing to return. They barely spoke…
The Lot substitute search almost cost her her son, when she tried to live in another country for a year. The school called the police, child services and she was told to come home or lose him. She came, but with rage in her heart. Ok she was in the house, but he barely saw her. Probably less than if she had visited from the other land.
When her husband died, she wailed and gnashed her teeth, like a grieving widow. Even though she hadn’t seen him in a decade. And neither had his child. Though husband had tried to keep in touch and had managed to raise his girlfriend’s children as his own. He was by all accounts a good step dad. Just not Lot. She attended his funeral dressed in widow’s weeds, with her son hanging onto her arm. Son wanted to know who this man was, mama was wailing over. She held court over the girlfriend he had been living with for almost as long as she had been gone.
She became involved with a cult and played out most of the rules, and rites. Except for the Lot search. She couldn’t seem to keep her thighs together. Whether or not she could give them a child.
When her son was 14, she kicked him out of the house. He wasn’t turning into the mini Lot she had thought he would become. And he was too much trouble for someone who wanted to keep their inner child, play the saint, plus do a Lot search. She called it tough love.
She thought she was doing the right thing for her health, but she took so many vitamins, she actually managed to poison herself. She was also barely eating. Yet she carried extra pounds on her frame. Nobody could figure out how she stayed alive. But it’s not like she drank or did drugs. So what could they do? Even supposing they were looking that close.
To this day, she carries on somehow. With barely a breath for change. Poor little mama.
mspeachierocks 