My Mother

Lies.

Not to my Dad, not to me, not to my sister.

She lies to herself.

Lies that she had completely forgotten the guy she loved back in University.

Lies that she is content with our little family now in Canada.

Lies that she didn't remember their last conversation, his regretful remark that he should have love her.

Lie that she didn't think and fantasy about that man some day, ponder and wish for a different future where she could have married to the man she truly loves.

Lie that she replays the songs he sang to her every night, recalling the fond moments.

My Mother lies.

She had carried the lie for twenty years of marriage.

She's a great liar, firmly rooted to her lie.

Mom,

You can tell us.

We know.

It's OK.

We know for years.

It's OK, Mom. You don't have to wear that false mask.

We're all liars here.