Early

I spent much more of my young life with my mother. But sadly, I can't say that I knew her much better than I knew my father. Soon after my father left our house we went to live with my grandmother, who had three kids still living at home. So, the three-bedroom house was crowded. But we ate well, and I never felt like we were poor. I really loved that time of my life. When I was about seven years old, I was standing in the bathroom speaking to my mother one morning. But she was quiet, distant, aloof. Then she very secretively lifted up the lid to the toilet, removed a pint-sized bottle of liquor from the water tank, twisted the cap off and gulped a huge slug of liquor. Water dripped from the bottom of the bottle onto her chest, but she did not seem to notice or care. She quickly replaced the cap and bottle, and then the toilet lid. And as she led me from the bathroom she leaned down to speak to me. Her breath smelled strongly of liquor. And I noticed around that time, all day, every day, she kept a can of cold beer within her reach, her breath radiating the smell of alcohol. Around the age of ten I had an understanding that my mother had a deep love of drinking alcohol. One night I was sitting in the Livingroom with my mother, several adults, and perhaps some other kids, as well. My mother reached across me and picked up her tall glass of beer. And as the glass of beer crossed me, I grabbed onto my mother's hand and guided the glass to my mouth. And without much resistance from my mother, I was able to tilt the rim of the glass to my mouth and take a drink of the beer. It was cold, strong, bubbly, and nasty. No one in the room protested. "Look, he has a little white mustache," they all laughed and pointed. I quickly swung my tongue across my lip to remove it. I really enjoyed the moment. And as time passed, I would often cuddle close to my mother, taking innocent swigs of her beer. Before long, I began to notice the half cans or glasses of beer in the refrigerator. I would guzzle them down and long for more. It wasn't nasty to me anymore, and I fell in love with the way it made me feel. Then when I was about thirteen years old my mother was suddenly admitted into the hospital. And then just three days later my grandmother received a call from the hospital at about three AM. They informed her that my mother had died. It was a very painful moment in my life. I will never forget the feelings of sorrow that I felt at that moment. I know that my mother loved me very much. And I am convinced that no one in this world will ever love me as much as she did. When she died my life became a quest for love unconditional. I am still on that quest.