I’m Rye. I have a wife and a four year old son.  

And a mom whom I feel doesn’t want me right from the start.

I know I sound melodramatic.

Emo as how this generation would make of my statement.

But really. I never felt she loved me even once.

I realized this when I graduated from kindergarten.

That early, I remembered how cold she was when I gave her my medals and awards.

She didn’t have that happy smile other moms have though the only award

their children has is a loyalty award.

Yes, I topped the class. But I failed to win my mom’s heart.

I started to think that something was wrong with me.

That if only I could correct that flaw, things would change.

She would then treat me as her son.

I was her only child, but instead I felt like I was her only mistake in life.

She treated everything else in her life with passion.

She was a musician when youth was still on her side, and when

she got a little older, she worked in a recording company as a staff.

I never heard of my dad.

The only conversations my mom and I shared were about dull things

like payments in school, scholarship grants and work.

We were well-off and I look up to her for that,

being a single mom and all, but that wasn’t enough.

I needed a mom, not money.

Time passed. I grew up.

Then I met Carrie.

I feel guilty every time I think that I just fell for her

because I was looking for a mother figure, but as days went by,

I realized she was more than that.

She was the ideal wife every man could dream of.

I thought I was going to be happy then, but I was wrong.

Things got even worse for me.

Mom treated Carrie like a daughter.

There’s nothing wrong with that at all, but the thing is,

I was her child, not Carrie.

Self-pity and jealousy were eating me all up.

Carrie noticed it before we got married.

I explained everything to her and she understood at once.

I admire her respect for our situation since she never

dipped a finger and tried to patch things up between us.

I can’t thank God enough for giving me such a beautiful person.