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- 05/28/2020
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The Sojourner of San Francisco - 5. LTR/05: What Goes Up Must Come Down
FROM: Sojourner
TO: Perfect Stranger
DATE: MAY-13-2019
Dear Stranger,
I am wondering if you’ve ever visited Mission District in San Francisco. It was Cinco de Mayo celebration weekend, and where else should you be other than Mission with its vibrant Latino culture! I really enjoyed the Mexican folklorico dance performance while I was there. There were quite a few businesses boarded-up on Mission Boulevard and it really made me sad and admired the resilience of the local residents, especially given the current political environment.
As I was eating an amazingly delicious Mission-style burrito, I felt thankful to those who brought foods to our tables. I was (and AM) proud of San Francisco for fostering a positive environment to people of all backgrounds. It is after all, the people who make the City great.
Anyways, my mom called me yesterday. I had already told her it would help us both heal, if we kept each other apart, for a while at least. She couldn’t help it, of course. It was Mother’s Day.
I could hear her eyes lit up, her face brightened (she is my mother) when she said she found some of my old photos. I was such a cute boy, she reminded me. Then there was a long pause, the heart-wrenching silence of a mother exhausted from searching for a boy who was never lost. “I am the same person, mom,” I wanted to tell her, “It’s not a choice.” But I had already told her that before I left.
It wasn’t very fair I made her choose God or me. It certainly didn’t feel fair when she made it very clear it’s God not me. There was a lot of hurt done. There was only one thought in my head at the time: I am not lovable; I cannot be loved. So here I am, in San Francisco, all by myself. Alive, but not well.
“We need time to heal, mom,” I kept saying that in my head, “we need time.”
The silence between us was replaced by the dial tone. Perhaps all that hurt came back to her, too. We used to finish each other’s thought, you see.
“Happy Mother’s Day,” was the last thing I wanted to say, but couldn’t say.
Sometimes I doubt myself. Maybe I have been a bad son. Perhaps I am being ungracious. There are people who can’t wait to be reunited with their parents and children, and here I am…, created a wall between my mom and me. Maybe I was not born to love as my heart desires. Do you think I am wrong, dear Stranger? Is my own honest feeling not as important as honor my parents?
Lovingly always,
Sojourner
San Francisco Mission District Mural Walk
[Space reserved for future expansion]
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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