By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee
I hate you! I hate you! The little girl was crying uncontrollably. A bright, red handprint blazed across her face. Someone had slapped her ... slapped her ... some kind of hard!
You ain't my mama, anymore! Leave me alone! Leave, and stay longer this time! The little girl of ten was hurt deeply ... she only knew it as anger. The angrier she was ... the more she hurt.
Her mother's eyes were angry ... she turned, walked away. She was just a young woman. She had no business with a child. She loved to roam, travel places ... stay gone as long as she wanted to. She had ... wanderlust.
She had to go ... she didn't mean to slap her little girl, but sometimes ... that child made her so mad! Now, she was leaving, didn't have time to make it up to her.
The little girl stood in the living room looking through the window. Her little shoulders shook as the sobs tore through her body. Mama! Don't go! Mama, I don't hate you! Please don't leave me here!
She watched her mother get into a car ... the car backed out of the driveway. The little girl sunk to her knees, fell to the floor. She cried until she fell asleep.
When she woke up ... she felt scared. Her mother was gone, and she'd told her she hated her! She loved her mama, and the more she loved her ... the more she hated her for leaving her!
Several months passed ... the little girl heard a door slam outside in the driveway. She ran to the door ... everything else around her faded ... she focused on the beautiful woman smiling at her. She began to run! Mama! I love you, mama! I missed you! I don't hate you! Her mother held her close.
This is when ... I hate you, means ... I love you. This is a true story of a little girl's mother who had wanderlust. She'd leave the little girl in Hell while she traveled, for months at a time.
The little girl would become so upset that she'd cry hysterically, scream that she hated her mama ... it wasn't so, she loved the ground her mama walked on.
She didn't know how to tell her mama to not go away, again. Anger, pain made the little girl feel hate ... which was strong love for her mother.
I hate you, mama! It means I love you so much, please don't leave me, again!
Photo Credit/story is of, owned by me ... Gloria Faye Brown Bates/ aka &grannygee.
This is a true story ... I knew that little girl well ... I used to be her. My mother had me at fourteen years old ... she was still playing with dolls. She didn't know how to care for a child ... she was one, herself.
My mother was a beautiful woman. She was a good person ... she just didn't know how to be a mother to a little girl. As I became older, I could understand ... and forgave. I loved my mother with my Heart. She was very good to me years later, until the day she died.
You are right!! At the age of 14 how could a person take care of a child? I am glad your mother was very good to you later. Hopefully that made up for the times she had left you in the hell you were in. Love, Ms. Nancy
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