Status: Finished
Moving Is the Hardest Part
Last Day Home
Everything seemed to go by in slow motion. The preacher talking, the random people singing, the stares, whispers and the crying. It all went by so slow and it seemed like it would have never stopped. Even the rain came down slow and it crashed down on my mother's coffin so softly. The heavens were crying along with everyone around me, yet I couldn't shed one single tear. I hid myself behind a pair of large sunglasses, even though there was no sun out. I watched with tired eyes as my mother's coffin was lowered in the ground and covered with dirt. Time seemed to speed up then and before I knew it I was sitting at home all alone.
Everything was packed up in boxes, the walls were bare of pictures and the rooms empty of life. My mother's friend Ms Bird put most of my mother's things in storage, she said it would be good to have once I'm older and get my own place. I didn't bother to tell her I wouldn't use the stuff, she wouldn't have listened anyway. The grandfather clock struck twelve and I found myself curled up in a ball on the couch, in the same place mother would always sit. It still smelt like her, like vanilla and spiced apples. The rain still fell outside and as the wind blew it hit the window. I smiled despite myself, I've come to be rather fond of the rain. Growing up I use to be afraid of it, but my mother fixed that when I was about six or so. I remembered the memory, it was so clear in my mind.
“Rain, rain go away. Come again another day...all the world is waiting for the sun,” I sung quietly to myself and that's when my tears fell, just like the rain. So many memories I'm forced to never forget, if I forget them no one will remember and my mother will be nothing, but a name. Somewhere between my tears, the rain and my memories I fell asleep on the couch and when I woke up it was eight in the morning. I had had only an hour left in the house that I grew up in, within that next hour I would be gone. On a one way trip to South California, to a place called Huntington Beach. There I would stay with a friend of my mother's who I had not known. I was excited and scared all at the same time, why did my mother choose to send me to the West Coast?
Everything was packed up in boxes, the walls were bare of pictures and the rooms empty of life. My mother's friend Ms Bird put most of my mother's things in storage, she said it would be good to have once I'm older and get my own place. I didn't bother to tell her I wouldn't use the stuff, she wouldn't have listened anyway. The grandfather clock struck twelve and I found myself curled up in a ball on the couch, in the same place mother would always sit. It still smelt like her, like vanilla and spiced apples. The rain still fell outside and as the wind blew it hit the window. I smiled despite myself, I've come to be rather fond of the rain. Growing up I use to be afraid of it, but my mother fixed that when I was about six or so. I remembered the memory, it was so clear in my mind.
“Rain, rain go away. Come again another day...all the world is waiting for the sun,” I sung quietly to myself and that's when my tears fell, just like the rain. So many memories I'm forced to never forget, if I forget them no one will remember and my mother will be nothing, but a name. Somewhere between my tears, the rain and my memories I fell asleep on the couch and when I woke up it was eight in the morning. I had had only an hour left in the house that I grew up in, within that next hour I would be gone. On a one way trip to South California, to a place called Huntington Beach. There I would stay with a friend of my mother's who I had not known. I was excited and scared all at the same time, why did my mother choose to send me to the West Coast?
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