Mary

Karen Hall
2 min readSep 17, 2020
Photo by DDP on Unsplash

How does one properly conjure the will to be a mother? Merely wanting it is one thing. The reverence given to a pregnant body, the appeal of obsequious attention. An infant softly cooing, reaching out to grasp her finger. Profound depth in a child’s eyes. Wonder — that such an old soul came into existence in such a new body. Watching the wheels of a bicycle wobbling forward without fetter or support for the first time. Agonizing over adolescence as though living through it again, only to find redemptive victories in places where you suffered defeat. Entering a new phase, easy as slipping on a robe, as her child moves into their own home. Phone calls late at night in which a broken voice betrays the loneliness of a breakup, the exhaustion of a new job, the hesitant terror of an uncertain future. All things bright and beautiful are there. How could one possibly fight the instinctual will to be a mother?

But here she is now, fighting. Biting her nails raw, pulling back the torn skin, skulking around the tile on the bathroom floor. On the edge of the sink the pee stick hangs, just like a scene from a modern TV show featured on a streaming service. In the middle of that stick, the oval that tells the story of her future. It’s all been written out in the tiniest font, in ancient runes, both forward and backward, waiting for her to take up her magnifying glass. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, yourself included. The tile on the bathroom floor is dizzying, creeping halfway up the walls at an angle that forces the perspective of great height on the viewer. Mary feels sick to her stomach. She reaches into her underwear, dipping two fingers into her vagina, just to check. They come out damp and clear. She sniffs, tastes them with the tip of her tongue. It’s all up to the edge of the sink, now. Trembling from trunk to limbs, she manages to rise and steady herself in front of the mirror. At the center of her pee stick, the oval reveals her future, rising to the surface like an answer in the murky ink of a Magic 8 ball.

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Karen Hall

there are 2 types of people in this world and you are not one of them