But...

I have a mom.  But I am not sure for how much longer.
I have a mom.  But her memory is failing rapidly.
I have a mom.  But I wonder if her failing memory is her punishment.
I have a mom.  But my childhood was not great.
I have a mom.  But I still feel a sting when my friends go get pedicures with their moms.
I have a mom.  But that same sting happens when moms show up and cheer their kids on.
I have a mom.  But I still feel a sting when moms go dress shopping with their daughters.
I have a mom.  But she beat me and left me on my knees in the driveway begging her not to leave.
I have a mom.  But I attempted suicide after she left.
I have a mom.  But my brother took me prom dress shopping.
I have a mom.  But I can't pretend it has been easy.
I have a mom.  But therapy, writing, and moving has helped.
I have a mom.  But I can't help but think her ability to forget those memories is my punishment.
I have a mom.  But I can't forget the fear, the trauma, the bruises, the screaming, the anxiety, the uncertainty she inflicted.
But she can.  And she did.