Mother’s Shadow

– Present, but never fully with me

I often saw my mother—
but most of the time, she was a shadow.

Her back as she tied her hair, rushing out the door.
Her silhouette blurred behind the front door.
Her eyes fixed on her phone, even when we shared a table.

She was always there—
but somehow, I still felt alone.

When I spoke,
she said “not now” or “be quiet.”
And by the time words came back to me,
they were too late for the moment they were meant for.

I remember waiting for her
more than I remember talking to her.

She was near like a shadow,
but never reached me like light.
That was my mother to me.

And in the shadow of that mother,
I quietly swallowed my emotions.
I tried not to be noticed—
afraid I might make things harder for her.

A child raised under a shadow
becomes an adult who hesitates to feel too much.
Even with love nearby,
they smile carefully,
and break quietly.

Even now,
when someone is right beside me,
I sometimes still feel alone.
Maybe because I lived too long
in my mother’s shadow.