Priestess
07-23-06, 12:09 AM
Sometimes it feels like the night is closing in on me. Maybe better to talk, so to hear myself talking. To write so to see that I have written. To feel life reflected in the footprints living has left. But then the night remains, in rustling winds.
Who was Marie? Two years ago, I was given the baby book which my mother once kept of me. She intended, I think, for it to answer my curiousity, though as it happened I was given new questions to ask.
In the very beginning of the book, in an envelope containing some papers from immediately after my birth, and some cute pictures of my infant self, there was a sales brochure from a funeral home, with what looks like the name "Marie" written on it. I eventually asked my mother who Marie was & she became pretty emotional, I had to stop her from making the brochure disappear forever. She demanded I return the book and was angry when I wouldn't.
My mother will not talk to me about this subject. But it wasn't the first time I've heard the name. While I may appreciate and enjoy my name now, there was once when I was reluctant but coerced into having it. My reluctance was nothing compared to my mother's distaste for Melissa. When I asked her if she had any better ideas, she said I should have chosen the name Marie. And that has been her last and only words on the subject. At the time I was confused, one name seemed like another. I hadn't seen the brochure yet.
Now I wonder, sometimes in the night. Marie? Like seeing a ghost reflected in a mirror's glass. Was she someone who lived? Or an illusion created from the wishes of a young mother as she was pushed to the edge? The questions now fail me. I just can't help feeling like I've heard the name somewhere before. Oh well. :2in1:
Who was Marie? Two years ago, I was given the baby book which my mother once kept of me. She intended, I think, for it to answer my curiousity, though as it happened I was given new questions to ask.
In the very beginning of the book, in an envelope containing some papers from immediately after my birth, and some cute pictures of my infant self, there was a sales brochure from a funeral home, with what looks like the name "Marie" written on it. I eventually asked my mother who Marie was & she became pretty emotional, I had to stop her from making the brochure disappear forever. She demanded I return the book and was angry when I wouldn't.
My mother will not talk to me about this subject. But it wasn't the first time I've heard the name. While I may appreciate and enjoy my name now, there was once when I was reluctant but coerced into having it. My reluctance was nothing compared to my mother's distaste for Melissa. When I asked her if she had any better ideas, she said I should have chosen the name Marie. And that has been her last and only words on the subject. At the time I was confused, one name seemed like another. I hadn't seen the brochure yet.
Now I wonder, sometimes in the night. Marie? Like seeing a ghost reflected in a mirror's glass. Was she someone who lived? Or an illusion created from the wishes of a young mother as she was pushed to the edge? The questions now fail me. I just can't help feeling like I've heard the name somewhere before. Oh well. :2in1: