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Twenty-three pounding heartbeats to get to see her again.
She looked up from whatever she was lost in and smiled at me. “Hi,” she breathed out with glossy, drained eyes.
She always looked so tired, like she was constantly battling something within herself.
An all-out war for her sanity and peace of mind.
Turning away from her, I sat my backpack and the sunflowers I picked on the way over on the chair. Holding my head down for a few moments to catch some air.
Breathe in and out, Jackson.
In and out.
Just. Keep. Breathing.
I needed a second to get my shit together. I always did. It didn’t matter how many times I told myself this was going to get easier. It never did. If anything, it always got harder.
Nothing about the woman in front of me reminded me of my mother.
Her eyes.
Her smile.
Her laugh
Not even…
Her love.
“Don’t you have school?” she asked out of nowhere, making my eyes snap back to hers.
I smiled. I couldn’t help it. There was no hiding the relief I felt.
“I did. I came here right from school. It’s Friday. Your favorite day.”
She mirrored my expression, stating, “Because all my boys are home for two whole days.”
My eyes watered, there was no hiding that either. Feeling an overwhelming amount of emotion because she was having a good day.
I never knew what was worse… when she remembered or when she didn’t.
Me. Her. Us.
She still had more good days than bad. However, when they were bad, they were the worst.
“Yeah, Mom. Two whole days with all your boys home.”
“I cooked your favorite dinner. Pot roast with no carrots.”
I chuckled, “I hate carrots. They’re such a pointless vegetable. They taste like nothing.”
“But they’re so good for your mind. You need to be like your daddy, not like me. Never like me.”
“Mom, do you want me to brush your hair?” I asked, changing the subject.
“Oh, yes! I’d love that,” she replied, her eyes sparkling.
I hated when she looked at me like that. As if she was trying to make a memory of my face, of this moment, of this day.
