The Unravelling of a Name - Lila Fenimore (UHS Runner - Up)

Mama is the first word the mouth learns to trust.

A sound formed before meaning,

before memory, based only on repetition.

It arrives softly, pulled from instinct,

as if the name itself, is stitched into the skin.

Then, comes Mommy,

filled with memories and intention.

A word that smells of warmth,

tastes of chocolatey, buttery treats,

sounds of crumbs on the lips.

It belongs to scraped knees,

to bedtime negotiations,

to love spoken out loud

because there is nothing else to lose.

Time, however, is a careful eraser.

Children shriek.

Eyes roll.

Doors close.

Syllables shorten.

Mom survives adolescence.

It lives in sighs across the table,

in conversations that circle but never land.

Until one day, even mom loses its weight.

It feels borrowed. Rehearsed.

Spoken because it is expected, not because a mommy’s tenderness is still familiar.

It lands sharper, without warmth, a name stripped of gravity.

Eventually, Mary takes its place.

A name that stands alone. Unattached.

Where Mama once lived, there is now a person without instinctual reach.

Not gathering blankets into a burrito at bedtime,

Not kneeling for skinned knees, planting kisses between the burns.

She exists without the quiet labor of noticing.

Life continues, indifferent. Legs grow hair.

The mirror becomes a teacher.

The bathroom light hums late into the night.

With no guidance, the daughter learns precision in isolation.

The tilt of a razor,

the patience required,

the way pain arrives

before understanding.

Blood falls against white tile.

Mary does not ask questions.

She notices only the stain.

So, the daughter becomes fluent in a different language: Independence.

The house fills with silence.

The silence fills with anger.

Growing up becomes a private act,

measured in things learned too early

and things offered too late.

Love does not disappear.

That would be simpler. What is lost –

is the irreplaceable attention of a Mama,

a presence that sees without searching,

a closeness that requires no translation to be understood.

Somewhere between Mama and Mary,

a girl becomes a woman

without anyone watching.