Status: Starting
I Swear to God My Intentions Were Gold
"Are you absolutely sure you want to go," my mother asked me as she zipped up my last suitcase.
I threw my hair back over my shoulders and held my breath as I hoisted the heaviest of all my luggage onto my bed; my hair products and make up. "It's a little late to ask that, mom." She patted the suitcase and stared for a long moment at it. I immediately felt a small bit of guilt. "It's only for a few months, you know."
She seemed to snap out of her miniature trance long enough to give me a weak smile. Her tired eyes crinkled in the corners, making her crows feet stand out even more. Her mature hair fell past her eyes, splitting at the ends and curling in the most random of places. I felt awful leaving her.
My mother wasn't exactly young. She had me when she was thirty five; very late for a woman of those days. And now two decades later she was aging, and doing it alone.
My dad had left us back when I was seventeen, and died just a few months after. My mom still hadn't accepted anything, and hadn't even gone through the grieving process. I worried that she'd fall into a depression while I was gone and realize that she was in fact alone. Even if it was only for three months.
I sighed yet again and leaned forward to give her a lasting hug. She immediately grasped me back. I ignored how powerful her grip was, and the fact that she was actually using her nails. I held the hug a few moments longer before I backed up and smiled up at her. "I'll be gone a few months. Invite Auntie to come over while I'm gone. She can use my old bedroom; I don't mind."
She nodded and clapped her hands together. "That's a wonderful idea!" she proclaimed as she twirled and exited the room. "I'll call her right now!" I heard her voice call from down the staircase.
I breathed a little lighter and tapped my fingers against the headboard as I took in the silence of my old bedroom. I stared down at my bags and couldn't help but to grin as my eyes fell upon the postcard I'd had since I was twelve. That I'd hung up in my room and stared at every night before I fell asleep.
I ran my fingers across the tree line right below the most beautiful mountain I'd ever seen. "New Zealand," I whispered.
I threw my hair back over my shoulders and held my breath as I hoisted the heaviest of all my luggage onto my bed; my hair products and make up. "It's a little late to ask that, mom." She patted the suitcase and stared for a long moment at it. I immediately felt a small bit of guilt. "It's only for a few months, you know."
She seemed to snap out of her miniature trance long enough to give me a weak smile. Her tired eyes crinkled in the corners, making her crows feet stand out even more. Her mature hair fell past her eyes, splitting at the ends and curling in the most random of places. I felt awful leaving her.
My mother wasn't exactly young. She had me when she was thirty five; very late for a woman of those days. And now two decades later she was aging, and doing it alone.
My dad had left us back when I was seventeen, and died just a few months after. My mom still hadn't accepted anything, and hadn't even gone through the grieving process. I worried that she'd fall into a depression while I was gone and realize that she was in fact alone. Even if it was only for three months.
I sighed yet again and leaned forward to give her a lasting hug. She immediately grasped me back. I ignored how powerful her grip was, and the fact that she was actually using her nails. I held the hug a few moments longer before I backed up and smiled up at her. "I'll be gone a few months. Invite Auntie to come over while I'm gone. She can use my old bedroom; I don't mind."
She nodded and clapped her hands together. "That's a wonderful idea!" she proclaimed as she twirled and exited the room. "I'll call her right now!" I heard her voice call from down the staircase.
I breathed a little lighter and tapped my fingers against the headboard as I took in the silence of my old bedroom. I stared down at my bags and couldn't help but to grin as my eyes fell upon the postcard I'd had since I was twelve. That I'd hung up in my room and stared at every night before I fell asleep.
I ran my fingers across the tree line right below the most beautiful mountain I'd ever seen. "New Zealand," I whispered.