Page 214 of Invisible Bars
The screen door creaked behind her, then slammed shut like punctuation on a sentence I wasn’t ready to unpack.
I grabbed my keys, already halfway to the door, when Mother’s voice cut through—soft, but heavy enough to stop time.
“Don’t forget your gifts.”
I halted in my steps.
For a moment, I thought she might’ve finally come around and accepted the gifts… but no. That wasn’t the first time she sent back a piece of me and probably wouldn’t be the last.
My pride was louder than my footsteps as I snatched the bags up.
“You could’ve at least said thank you for the effort!”
“Giselle, sit yo’ behind down right now!” she chastised in that motherly tone that still made my fifty-three-year-old tail flinch.
I turned slowly, keys clenched tight enough to leave marks.
“You came all this way to drop off some fancy clothes youknowI’d never wear. And now you think being mad makes you right? That ain’t love, baby; that’s ego wrapped in a gift bag.”
“I’m trying to dosomethingfor you,” I deflected.
“No, baby, you’re trying to do something thatlookslike something. What I need can’t be swiped on a card.”
I sighed and sat, carefully adjusting my pants so they didn’t wrinkle.
“Giselle, I raised you better than this.”
“Mother—”
“Let me talk,” she cut in softly as she scrolled over and sat beside me. “Giselle, you know how many women I know who chased money and still died lonely? Or got everything they ever prayed for only to find out God didn’t approve of any of it?”
I looked down at my designer handbag, guilt prickling at my chest like a thousand tiny pins.
She wasn’t yelling—she didn’t have to.
The truth doesn’t shout; it just lands like a weighty stone. And her truth? It hit particularly hard.
“You think you’re better than this house? Better than the people that knew you when you didn’t have name-brand draws? Baby, the devil got plenty of daughters who look rich and feel empty. Don’t be one of them.”
“I just want you to have better. Is that a crime?”
“Giselle, what you’ve never failed to realize is that I already got thebest. I have peace, faith, and a heart that ain’t bitter. Can you say the same?”
"I’m… I’m working on it,” I fibbed, my voice barely above a whisper, knowing deep down that it was only half the truth.
“You can’t buy your way into heaven, and you can’t shop your way out of karma, Giselle,” she continued, her tone firm yet compassionate. “The higher you climb, thinking you’re untouchable, the harder that fall will be when God humbles you.”
My eyes welled up with tears, but I refused to cry in front of her—not at this stage in my life.
I stood slowly, feeling her words settle in places I didn’t even know were tender and raw. If I sat there for even a moment longer, I feared I might break just off the strength of her truth alone.
"I… I have to go,” I finally said.
Surprisingly, Mother didn’t press me for more; she just gave me that knowing shake of her head, her lips pressed tight as if she were swallowing back a wave of unspoken emotions.
“You go on now… and take those bags back with you. You can’t dress up wisdom, baby… you just have to live it.”
Mother’s voice held a mix of love and sorrow, and her gaze pierced through the layers of my carefully constructed armor.
