There are many like us out there. We all look the same. We are those who suffer at the hands of the alcoholic. You would not recognize that we suffer. We hide it well. We often seek shelter inside our shell yet can’t escape the pain inflicted upon us. A pain received at the hands of someone we love. Both emotional and physical pain.
I was one of the many. However, one person extended a hand. Understood my reality. Sacrificed herself in order to make our life somewhat more manageable. Tried to make normal of the abnormal. A shield of sorts. Often taking the abuse upon herself so it may bypass me. All in the name of love. A love for her only child. A protector till the very end.
She was more than a protector. She was my loving mother. She did all she could do. For me. And I thank you.
This is fiction written for VisDare 10: Whimsy. No PFC Patterson this week. The picture didn’t allow it. It was difficult to come up with something. This is all I could bleed today.
Mind of Shoo 
How beautiful!
TY Deana
I don’t know what to say except that is great .
What you said is perfect. I thank you. 🙂
This is hauntingly gorgeous. A somber look at a very real issue, a deep love that stands in the gap to brook the pain. Well rendered and poignant. Thank you for sharing this!
You are so very welcome. Thanks 🙂
Beautifully done . . . it hits home quite a bit.
Does it? And thanks for the compliment.
This had a special meaning for me. I suppose there is nothing unique about hiding in shells, but I find this is particularly touching when you stop to consider just how fragile a snail’s shell is. The tenderness is complete when you realize the mother hid in the same fragile shell.