The day my mother fell off of her pedestal

I have always loved to read — books have always been part of my life.

As a young child, I devoured them. At seven years old, I grasped for the bigger books, with grand paginations : the Wizard of Oz, bound in vintage style, with illustrations... I read it through, even if I didn't quite understand everything but the desire & the discovery were there.
Later I devoured biographies, a series of American profiles : Thomas Jefferson, Harriet Beecher Stowe... I would gather a pile from the local library, spend an afternoon curled up on the sofa, discovering life.
My mother loved that I loved to read. Besides, it kept me quiet.

One day my mother asked me : How would you like to read a book about a little girl who grows up ?
My eyes sparkled as I answered "yes !" My mother would show me her treasure, the beloved book that she'd read when she was a little girl just like me. A wondrous volume, an initiation ! I was delighted and impatient at the thought.
I kept asking her for the book. She said it hadn't arrived yet. I waited, imagining this wonderful thing.

One day she came into my room with the "book". It turned out to be a thin pamphlet by Kotex on menstruation, with pinkish anatomical drawings of the female reproductive system.

My mother fell off of her pedestal.
She would be of no use to me.
I can only imagine what might have happened if she had given me the book of my dreams.
She clearly knew nothing at all about me.

© Trevor Brown

When she asked me if I had any questions, I said no. I had looked with disgust at the drawings, and didn't even open another book on reproduction that had stick figures.
I stayed in my ignorance, despite the sex education class at school.
I didn't understand how the seed got into the egg. A girl giggled " That's what they do in bed, silly !" Bed ? What's that got to do with it?

I was twelve years old when I got my period.  I bled for two days without telling anyone, ashamed. Finally the blood poured out when I was at my best friend's house. My mother came rushing over.
In the bathroom she handed me a thick Kotex napkin that was worn with a belt. Even more humiliating : how was I to pee ? Just pull it down.
Disgusting blood that smelled like hamburger. Yuck.

Curled up in the dark on my bed. My father peeked into the room "I hear you're a woman now." Embarrassment & betrayal :  why did she tell my Dad ?

In high school, I wasn't allowed to date, and boys were still curious creatures to me. I remained in my innocence, despite the sensuality of the poetry I was writing at the time, or the sleepless nights on a full moon with strange urges making me writhe like a cat.
I met my first true love at the end of high school. We were both virgins - somehow he thought I had experience. Finally, one afternoon we made love in my dorm room at college to Debussy or Ravel - something with a harp !
He was lying in the bed, and I lowered myself slowly onto his cock. The length of it penetrated me. And then, the joyful discovery of movement ! Somehow, I understood penetration, but had never fathomed that it would move in& out.
I couldn't get enough, we couldn't get enough & we spent 5 years exploring in every way.
I had no inhibitions, only my own sensual lust, as I had never talked about sex at home. Or with anyone really.

(written April 4, 2009)