One Last Line

"Andrew," my mom said for the third time, "get up."

I looked up at her, not moving. She shook her head before grabbing my arm and tugging on it. There weren't any blankets or sheets for her to pull off of me - I'd shed them from my bed quickly and thrown them into my closet. Too many memories.

"You are going to get up right now and go somewhere. I don't care where you go, but you are getting out of this house. You will be gone until at least ten tonight, okay? Do you hear me, Andy?" She continued to throw a t-shirt and jeans my way.

I pulled the clothes on automatically as she continued to talk. I pulled on my shoes and my mom steered me down the stairs and out the front door. Before I knew it I was standing outside, on my front lawn - something I haven't done in a few days.

My mom handed me the keys to my car and pushed me towards it. I climbed inside and turned the key in the ignition. Mom wrapped her arms around herself as she watched me back out of the drive, a small smile forming on her lips.

I knew she was sick of me being at home and grieving. She wanted me to get back out in the world. She wanted me to go back to school and act as normal as I could. She wanted me to live again.

I know she would want me to move on with my life. She would say that she had only been a phase and that I could move on. She would have died someday anyhow, and that I would have had to deal with it then, too. I wanted to live, if not for my mom, for her.

Time to learn how to live again.

Starting with a round of drinks.