Catharsis
prologue
My mom died on a Sunday.
I think it was late October.
Yes, because it rained that day; because the world had let out a massive sigh of relief as bombs were dropped in Afghanistan and the United States went on the offensive following the attacks on 9/11 and my mother was killed in a car accident on I-95. She was driving home from work early in the morning, and sometimes I imagine that she was getting tired and her eyes were heavy, and her entire body ached from another shift at the hospital three towns over, but she was thinking of me and Dad at home, sleeping. Maybe she was thinking about how it was going to be my seventh birthday that January, that she had promised to take me ice skating in the city.
And sometimes I imagine that she lived, even though she didn’t.
Sometimes it’s just nice to think about.
I think it was late October.
Yes, because it rained that day; because the world had let out a massive sigh of relief as bombs were dropped in Afghanistan and the United States went on the offensive following the attacks on 9/11 and my mother was killed in a car accident on I-95. She was driving home from work early in the morning, and sometimes I imagine that she was getting tired and her eyes were heavy, and her entire body ached from another shift at the hospital three towns over, but she was thinking of me and Dad at home, sleeping. Maybe she was thinking about how it was going to be my seventh birthday that January, that she had promised to take me ice skating in the city.
And sometimes I imagine that she lived, even though she didn’t.
Sometimes it’s just nice to think about.