This House of Glass: A Mother’s Portrayal of Love, Loss and Hope

By Debra L. Hall

What happens when our happiness is defined by how we are not feeling sad and helpless?
Once trust is shattered, can the connection between parents and child ever be regained?
Is there still hope for this fragile place called family?

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Sep 24, 2019
• ISBN: 9781728321653

Debra L. Hall

 

Book preview

I AM BORN

My mama is kissing my face.

I study her face - memorizing.

I look deep into her brown eyes

as they absorb me.

Mama’s skin is a soft brown,

the color I saw in her womb,

my nest.

I feel her gentle touch.

I hear her voice.

It is no longer muffled.

She says, I love you.

"I asked God for a baby,

and he gave me you."

Baby?

She moves away.

Her steps are light.

Above me

I see colorful objects

going around and around.

Your father put that up.

Mama’s voice fills me with wonder.

Thank you for putting up the mobile.

She is talking to someone else.

That someone is my father.

I recognize the sound of his

firm steps

as he walks toward me.

I feel him near.

He is looking at me.

His eyes are blue,

like the walls around me.

He doesn’t look anything like Mama.

We seem to have an understanding.

I am like him.

His hair is light,

like his skin,

like my skin.

He has hair above his top lip.

I know they are lips

because Mama kisses me with her lips,

every time she lifts me from my soft bed.

Then she sits,

and I feel

her rocking us gently.

My eyes cling to Mama’s breast

as I suck out the milk

that keeps me alive.

My father brushes his fingers

over the top of my head,

just before he kisses my forehead

and whispers,

My son.

What is a son?

Being born can wear a person out.

I sleep all night,

every night.

It is dark - and quiet.

When I wake up,

Mama is looking at me.

She whispers, Baby.

Her gentle breath

caresses my face.

A sense of oneness

threads through the

space between us,

and yet

somehow I

note a sense of self.

I am Baby.

A mellow beam of light

spills from an opening in the wall.

It is sunlight.

Mama swaddles me.

She picks me up.

We are close.

She is warm - like the light.

Her scent is like I remember.

I feel her heartbeat.

Can she feel mine?

She raises her eyes and says,

Thank you for my son.

That word again.

She kisses me

on the outside curve

of my nose.

That is where she will kiss me

all the time,

as long as I am

her baby –

her little boy.

It is summer.

I was born in June.

I AM ME

Father looks concerned.

Mama is dressing me.

My arms are flailing.

My fingers sprawl.

My body is rigid.

Getting dressed

takes a lot of energy.

Watch out!

Father sounds scared.

I start to cry.

Don’t break his fingers.

Mama lets out a long breath,

I’ve done this before.

Father backs away.

My body is tangled in clothes.

Only my face and hands poke out.

Mama did not break me.

I soon learn that this ordeal

will be repeated,

over and over again - everyday,

for the rest of my life.

But it becomes easier,

for Father,

for Mama,

and for me.

WHAT IS FAMILY?

He’s so little.

How precious.

He looks so much like his daddy.

What is a daddy?

"I