Ours was a covenant of frustration. We were each other’s but not each other. Connected but not the same.
I thought it would be ever thus, my mother and myself. It is, now that she’s gone. And it never was.
Metaphortography Prompts are free visual and verbal writing prompts for inspiration and reflection. This is the Monday section of Aimee Liu’s MFA Lore. Our Wednesday section is Writer In The World, a curated collection of essays on the writing life by acclaimed MFA faculty and alumni. Well Published videos and other MFA Core essays on the craft and business of creative writing will drop each Saturday. Receive some or all of these newsletters by subscribing now:
HELD
Hers is the voice in my head, the sound in the night, the arms forever reaching, pushing, encircling. What? Me? My life? My choices?
More. My very being. My coming and going, both. She bore me. Carried and contained me, never let me go. The cursed elastic never stretched far enough, the blessed bond never broke. Our ages bled into and through each other, radiant with the heat of devotion, the impossible light of longing, the incandescent rage of possession. Ours was a covenant of frustration. We were each other’s but not each other. Connected but not the same.
I thought it would be ever thus, my mother and myself. It is, now that she’s gone. And it never was.
HELD: Old English healdan "to hold, own"
a: Controlled
b: Kept in one's possession
c: Possessed by right
a: Kept or restricted by force
b: Restrained or kept back
c: Delayed
Embraced
a: Supported
b: Carried or cradled
c: Protected
d: Secured
Lasted without breaking
Contained
Judged or asserted
Convened
Here is your writing prompt:
As you contemplate the image above, consider what it meant to be held by your mother when you were younger. Ask yourself:
How did you respond to her embrace, and why?
Who supported whom?
What did you need from each other?
What did you take from each other?
What did you freely give to each other?
What could you never get from each other?
What did you love most— and least— about your mother’s touch?
What would you do differently now, if you could go back to her in time?
Now write that do-over scene with your mother. Tell her something that you always needed to say but didn’t. Confront the misunderstandings or secrets between you. Exchange confidences and ask the questions you were always too embarrassed or afraid to ask. Test the boundaries. See if you can find a new, closer way to hold each other, if only on the page. Or, if that’s not possible, see if you can find a new way to react and hold the truth of your embrace.
Loreates’ Corner
I’m delighted to introduce you to a few of the wonderful stacks by writers in our community. Please read, subscribe, and share! And if you’re an MFA Lore subscriber with a great writing stack that I haven’t mentioned, please drop the link in a comment, so I can add you to our Corner.
Kathleen Schmidt writes Publishing Confidential
Michael Klein writes Rebounding
Save the Dates!
Tuesday, May 12, at noon PT
Well Published, Live! with Karen Shepard on her Paris Review publication and writing about mixed-race families
I’m delighted to invite you to my next Well Published, Live! with novelist and essayist Karen Shepard. We’ll be chatting about her latest publication — an epistolary essay about mothers!—in The Paris Review and about the challenge of writing mixed-race stories.
Saturday, May 23 at 9am PT
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