Wednesday, May 29, 2019
life :: essays research papers
I felt the warmth of my mothers hands on my cracked skin while she held my face. Her soft voice whispered in my ear good night. It was a cold winter night after Christmas as my mother tucked me in to bed, care she always had. After telling me good night her lips hit my cheek to give me the last kiss she incessantly would. As she walked issue, I told her I love you with all my heart and always will. In the, morning the warmth of the sun hit my face and woke me up like any other morning, however something was different, something just wasnt right. I lay in my warm bed, trying to ascertain why I wasnt tactility right. I jumped out of bed and woke my little brother up to go eat breakfast. As we walked down the hall, I heard my dad pouring a cup of hot coffee. Daddy is mom still sleeping, I asked. Mom will be gone for a while but baby, dont worry he told my brother and me in a sad voice. We will be just fine. I didnt understand why my mom would be gone though. I asked myself will she ever come back? Seven years have gone by and still my mom is gone, and my life has changed much than I thought it would. Jess, get Drews clothes ready for school tomorrow, my dad would admonish me every night before going to bed. make current my brother would be ready for school every morning, making sure he ate breakfast before he left for school, and making sure his homework was done everyday was what my mother used to do every morning and day but now she is gone. Now that she is gone I have to take that place. Now that I am the only lady in the house, I have to be the mother. No more going out on Friday nights with my friends, no more doing whatever I want. Every Friday, my friends would go out to the movies, and have fun without me. I had to stay home and make sure everything was right for my family. Now I have responsibilities like my brother who is now like my son. He thinks of me as not only a sister but a mother too. When you hear an eight year old boy call you mom a nd you are as young as me, its the scariest sense of touch you can have.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.