Category Archives: love

Angie II

Angie II
By: Mia L. Hazlett
11/4/14

I wake up and am mushed between the wall and my mother. I remember telling her everything. I cried to her about Chris not calling me. If anything, I can’t believe how lucky I really am. My mother didn’t yell at me. She didn’t shame me. She just held me and let me talk. She let me be scared. She let me hate Chris. But most importantly, she promised for the next week, we don’t have to tell my father.

Standing in front of my mirror the next morning, I turn to the side and look at my stomach. It’s still flat. I don’t know for how long, but I know ugly is coming soon. I saw this freshman girl at school one time and her stomach looked like someone had drawn little squiggly lines all over it and a giant one down the middle. If I get fat and ugly, Chris will never want me.

My mother told me we would handle him later, but the most important thing was a doctor’s appointment. She made one for today and she will pick me up after school. I can’t believe how cool my mom is being. I know she won’t last like this for long. Once she tells my dad, it will be over for me. But I need my mom right now. I felt really safe when I woke up with her in my bed. She told my dad I was sick and she wanted to stay close to me.

This cannot be happening. I look at the pick-up ring, which is where parents pull in to pick their kids up from school, and my mom and Chris’s mom are shouting at each other. Chris is in the passenger’s seat, slinking down trying not to be seen. I walk closer and hear my mother say “go fuck yourself,” before walking to the car and slamming the door.

I get in the car and I’m so embarrassed. I don’t say anything. I’m too scared. My mother just cussed my boyfriend’s mother out.

“Honey, I want you to know something. What you and Chris have done, is totally irresponsible. But both of you did it. Both of you. And people are going to say a lot of things because you’re young. But nobody gets to put you down and not hear my mouth. Now don’t get me wrong Angela, we are not friends. I am your mother and when I tell your father, the shit is gonna hit the fan. But baby, I will go to war and back for you. You are my God-given responsibility and I will protect you with my life. Now put your seat belt on.”

We drive off and I love and fear my mother at the same time.

Copyright © 2014 Mia L. Hazlett

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Angie

Angie
By Mia L. Hazlett
11/3/2014

This sucks. My life is over at fourteen. I’m gonna die. I’m so alone. I can’t talk to anyone. I lie on my bed holding my cell praying for him to call. He promised he would call. A quick vibration and “BFF” pops up on my iPhone along with a picture of Shayna.

“Girl,” I say, “He hasn’t called me. He came up to my locker after 4th and he said he was gonna call me after ball. I dun text him like ten damn times. Can’t nobody tell nobody they don’t have no time to text back. “

“Watchu doin’ now? Let’s roll down to his practice,” Shayna puts an idea in my head.

“I just gotta wait for my parents to get here, ‘cause I’m watchin’ Jordy. He gonna be outta practice by the time they get home,” I get the idea out of my head to roll up on him at his basketball practice.

“Well if he ain’t called by the time they get home, we gonna go knockin’ on his front door. He ain’t gettin’ outta this girl. If he thinks he is, the brotha dun lost his damn mind. He’s gotta know he can’t avoid us,” Shayna has always had my back.

“Girl what am I going to do?” I got my boyfriend out of my head and now it is just BFF to BFF.

“Whatever you do, don’t tell your parents. First you gotta see what Chris is gonna say, because you know your Daddy is gonna flip,” Shayna reminds me what else I am scared of.

“What if they kick me out? I mean they don’t even know I have a boyfriend. Shayna I’m so scared.” My voice cracks and the tears follow.

“Girl don’t cry. It’s gonna be okay. They ain’t gonna kick you out. And even if they do, you can come over here. You know my mother would never let you be on the streets.”

Somehow, every time Shayna tells me not to cry, I cry harder. The downstairs door opens. My mother is home. Maybe there is time to catch him at practice.

“Girl I have to go set the table for dinner. My mom just got home.”

I hang up with Shayna and go to the bathroom to wash my face. If I don’t wash my face and get my puffy eyes to go away, I will end up telling my mother. The one thing I’ve always been able to do is talk to my mom. If my mother asks me anything, I’ll lose it and tell her. She can’t know yet.

I throw the cold water on my face and I’m not sure if it is the water on my face or me bending over, but whatever happened, I now stand over the toilet throwing up. Back to the sink. Too late. My mother is behind me rubbing my back as I rinse my mouth out.

I turn and face my mother, “What’s going on babygirl?” she asks.

“Mummee, I’m pregnant,” I crumble into tears in my mother’s arms.

She holds me tight to her chest and whispers into my ear, “I know baby. I already know.”

Copyright © 2014 Mia L. Hazlett

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In My Head VII

In My Head VII
By: Mia L. Hazlett
9/23/14

I didn’t know how long it had been since I Daddy, but I was still really mad at him. I think he was really mad at me too. He had only called once or maybe it was twice, but I didn’t want to talk to him ever again. Mommy wanted me to talk to him when he called, but she didn’t make me when I said no. I just wanted my mommy. Sometimes I still heard her cry in the shower. When she got out she told me she got soap in her eyes. Now I was mad that Daddy made Mommy cry.

Next week was Christmas. Daddy always took us to see Santa so we could tell him everything we wanted. Today Mommy took us. I didn’t know what I wanted. I used to always want Mommy and Daddy back together, but I didn’t want that anymore. Daddy just made us sad.

I listened to my sister tell Santa what she wanted. She went on and on about toys and everything she had seen on TV, but I watched Mommy. She didn’t look happy. She was never happy anymore. When Santa asked me what I wanted, I told him, I wanted my mommy to be happy. It didn’t have to be my daddy anymore, it just had to make her happy. He asked me what I thought would make my mommy happy, and I didn’t know. I didn’t know what would make Mommy happy.

Maybe Mommy wanted new boots. She always complained because the ones she had now had a hole in them. Every time she wore them, her feet got wet and cold. Or maybe Santa could pay all the bills for her. She always said she didn’t have enough money. I know she needed a new winter coat. She had been wearing the same one for forever and the inside had a big hole and some of the white stuffing stuff was falling out. Or maybe Santa would give me some money to take her to dinner or the movies. Whenever we went out to dinner, she would always say she wasn’t hungry and let me and my sister get whatever we wanted. I knew it was because we didn’t have enough money. I knew she was hungry.

By the time I finally said something, I just said, “Santa, tell God to get something for my mommy that will make her happy forever. That’s what I want for Christmas, my mommy to be happy forever.”

Santa said okay.

©Copyright 2014 – Mia L. Hazlett

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Conundrum XIII

By: Mia L. Hazlett
4/15/13

Our dinner last night was so special to me. They had all met up before, but I was always the one who couldn’t make it there. I’m so happy I didn’t miss last night. I needed that night out. I hate getting snippet pieces of information from over five or six different phone conversations with everyone. Sitting there last night and hearing what was going on in everyone’s life made me appreciate my circumstances…at least a little bit.

I guess it hurt me the most that I couldn’t share what was going on in my life. I had to wear this happy mask and make myself appear indestructible on the outside, when in reality my life had been shattered three weeks ago. Absolutely shattered to pieces!

The relationships Tasha and Dawn had with their mother-in-laws was the relationship, which existed between my mother and I. It always had been and most likely always will be. My mother was a housewife and my father was an attorney at a prestigious (I’ve always hated that word) firm in downtown Boston. What was prestigious? His title? His salary? His partners? Whatever it was, I never heard “firm” without “prestigious.”

Somehow, this prestige boosted my mother’s image of herself and how she thought others should perceive us. If there was a point of perfection that existed beyond perfection, than that was how my mother wanted to be perceived. I almost ruined that for our family at the tender age of 15. I was raped by our babysitter’s boyfriend.

I had one older brother and one younger. My parents and their prestige led them to vacation and leave us with one of my father’s fellow attorney’s niece to babysit us while they were away. She was twenty-something and would always have her friends and on this one occasion, boyfriend, over to the house.

Point is, he came into my room this one night, drunk. He raped me and I conceived a child. My mother never believed me and told me I was to never say anything about it. I was home-schooled and never left my house. Literally, I never left our property. The backyard to our pool was the only place outside I was allowed. A home-birth was arranged with papers and a social worker or adoption lady, whoever that lady was who took my daughter or son.

Life continued as normal, for my “prestigious” parents anyways. At least my brothers believed me. They found the guy. I don’t know what happened to him, but whatever it was, was relayed in a quick wink from my brother when I asked why his shirt had blood on it one night. That was the best wink I ever received in my life.

I really never imagined I would ever have to revisit that year in my life, until the letter I received 3 weeks ago. That social work lady took away my daughter that day. The same daughter, who hunted me down and now wanted to know why I had given her away. There was a 25 year-old person I never met, who lost her adoptive parents in the past 5 years and now wants answers from me.

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Conundrum XI

By: Mia L. Hazlett
4/14/13

I sat at the table with my four closest friends.  We hadn’t met like this in the longest.  No kids.  No one’s house.  We were four adults at a nice restaurant sipping on wine and not having to share our plates with anyone.  We all had our own lives going at full speed, that we would try and play catch up, but usually one of us was missing.  Not tonight, we were all here.

Although I had made it through my storm and all of us had shared in our own obstacles, our friend Tasha was at the beginning of her hard times.  Her mother-in-law just moved in with her and her husband of almost 20 years, and their three kids.  It wasn’t that they didn’t have the room or means to support her, it was this woman had done everything to persuade her son to leave Tasha over the past 20 years.  Well as Tasha had always said, “less move in with us.”

The bond that holds this friendship together and that many don’t understand, we are all Christians. Not those fake church on Sunday, talk about everybody, we are perfect in Christ type of Christians.  We are the type of Christians that have Satan on one shoulder and an angel on the other.  Eighty percent of the time we live by the Word, but that other twenty percent, Lord help us all!

“I’m just caught between doing the Godly thing and saying fuck that bitch. She has made my life absolutely miserable for the past two decades and now when I am finally at the point in my career that I can telecommute three days a week, I gotta look at her ass.  C’mon now.”

“Trust me, I know what it is to have a mother-in-law from hell.  They suck.  We all know they suck.  But she’s losing it and it’s going to cost you more to put her in a home.  You know his brothers aren’t going to pitch in on the bill,” I chimed in.

“That’s what I’m sayin’.  I’m willing to pay more.  We can afford to pay for a place.  The only way we can pay, is if I’m working on those three days at home.  You know what I mean.  You know this woman thinks I only work 2 days a week and those other days I’m, ‘just spendin’ up her poor baby’s money.’”

“Well let’s look at this medically.  She’s in the early stages of dementia.  Maybe she’ll forget that she hates you and it will be like a new leaf with y’alls’ relationship,” Karla always knew how to add the comedy.

“I’ve thought about that.  But what if her hate for me has been so strong that I end up being the only one she remembers.  That is more my luck.”

We all laughed and made an ungodly toast for selective dementia.

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Ruler of My Life

By: Mia L. Hazlett
3/3/12

I follow You by faith with “My Plan” in hand.
You replace it with patience, because You know I’m not a fan.

Day in day out, God where are You now?
Month’s start month’s end, patience?  I don’t know how.

Trust You and wait on Your next move?
I’m sitting here doing nothing and I’ve got so much to prove.

Be still? Now that doesn’t even make sense.
The grass is so much greener on the other side of the fence.

Where did it all go? You took it all away.
I have nothing, no job or home. Where will we stay?

Humble? Depend on You for my every want and need?
How will it all be restored through a writing seed?

What do you mean You’re giving me a story that I have to see through to the end?
How can this be a story, when I sleep on a couch and depend solely on my friend?

God why did You make me feel again? I know my heart’s going to break.
It’s so much easier not to love at all, because I can avoid all this ache.

Let’s go back to the beginning, where I surrendered all.
If I end up here or there, by faith it is now Your call.

I never thought I’d say this, but thank you for adultery.
For it is by Your Word, I am finally free.

Life has its ups and downs, and full-circle You bring us back to the start.
I now know it’s not about age in prayer, but those with the purist of hearts.

Oh how You’ve restored me. A year ago I would’ve never believed all this.
There were many dark moments, where I’d thought I’d been taken off Your list.

Although I’m not at the end of my going through it trial.
My happy mask has been removed, so I no longer have to live in denial.

Thank You for my story God. Once again You were right.
I’ll happily spread the word of faith for those who still weep at night.

You are King of Kings, Lord of Lords, and Annihilator of all life’s strife.
I can do everything with You, for You are the Ruler of my life.

Copyright © 2012 Mia L. Hazlett
All Rights Reserved

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Making Love

Making Love
By: Mia L. Hazlett
1/21/12

You see, me and my man we’re always making love.  It’s a love that goes beyond that physical rhythmic passionate grind type of love.  Nah, I’m not talking about making love like that.  I mean there’s nothing like when he penetrates my ooohh….with his uuummm. But nah, I’m not talking about making love like that. 

I’m talking about when he’s 100 miles away; I can feel him right next to me. 

Yeah, making love like that.

I’m talking about when we carry on a conversation of 1000 words, but we haven’t spoken 1.

Yeah, making love like that.

I’m talking about when I look at my man and know if he made one change to himself, he would only redefine perfection.

Yeah, making love like that.

I’m talking about when I lock the whole world out; he doesn’t even need to use his key to get in.

Yeah, making love like that.

I’m talking about when the thoughts cross my mind, but they come out of his mouth.

Yeah, making love like that.

I’m talking about when I close my eyes and search my soul, I find him because we are one.

Yeah, making love like that.

So you see me and my man we’re always making love.  But I’m not talking about that rhythmic passionate grind type of love. I’m talking about that we are one type of love.


©2012 Mia L. Hazlett
All Rights Reserved

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