• My childhood was less than perfect. I would say if left me scarred, but it could've been much worse. I may never get over my parents getting divorced, or the heartache that came with living with my father and never knowing where my mom was. Sometimes thinking back to those yester-years makes me cry and wonder how I even survived it as a little girl.
    Growing up was tough too. I couldn't visit family without them asking me how my mom was doing or if I even heard from her. I got tired of saying I didn't know. The sad truth was that I never did know. She'd call a couple times a year, and I'd see her even less than that.
    I grew more depressed thinking about how much I missed out on spending quality time with mom. And since her boyfriend had a family of his own in another state, she became more of a mother to them than me. Oh, God! Sometimes I want to kill myself, but it wouldn't prove anything to her or make her feel guilty for practically deserting me.
    But I'm older now, and armed with a cell phone. If I make the long distance call, what could I say? What would I say? Could I hide my hurt feelings after all of these years?
    The phone rang on the other end, once...twice.
    "Hello?" It was my mom's familiar voice.
    "Hi, mom."
    "Oh hey, sunshine! What's new?"
    "Nothing, I was just thinking about you. When will you come down to visit me?"
    There was silence, and I was beginning to wonder if we got disconnected.
    "I don't know. There's a lot going on here," her voice trailed off. I knew what that meant.
    "What the hell," I snapped. "Why do I always get pushed to the side, like I mean nothing to you? I always get this s**t treatment!"
    She tried commenting, but I was too fired up to let her talk her way out of this. I made that mistake too many times, and she somehow always turned it against me. "It's always some lame excuse, like you're too busy, or your boyfriend has to see a doctor, or the time you couldn't even talk because you had a headache!"
    "Listen to me, Mandy," she scolded, but the phone started to get fuzzy and muffled. I didn't know if it was on purpose or not, but the next thing I know, the phone beeped.
    I waited ten minutes for her to call back. She didn't. I wasn't going to call her back, I had nothing left to say, nothing she'd want to hear anway. I'm tired of initiating the conversations and never having anything to walk away with.
    Two months later, I thought about calling her again. When I used my speed dial, my heart sank.
    "The number you have dialed has been disconnected or changed."
    I wasn't told about this, obviously. I sat down on my bed, put my head in my hands and cried like there no tomorrow. I had always feared that my mom would stop talking to me altogether, I mean, she did stop calling me.
    I hated her, yet I couldn't help but love her and miss her. Why couldn't my mom love me instead of leave me, the way that I always loved her?