A Part of My Heart

P.O.V. Cassadee

Her grey eyes went wide, her lower lip quivering. For a minute she stared at me in disbelief, soaking in the fact that I was actually here standing before her now watering eyes. My mother reached out, pulling my into her arms and squesszed me tightly as if making sure I was real. I stood with my hands at my side, my body tensed at her being so forward. Slowly my body relaxed, my arms wrapping around her. I could feel her tears wetting my shirt sleeve as she held me close, her body trembling. Just the sight of this woman crumbling here infront of me, was enough to get my eyes to cloud up a bit.

After what seemed a few minutes, she released me from her grasp. Wipping the tears away that streamed freely down her cheeks, eyes now bloodshot, and face puffy. Mum took my face in her hands, giving a sincere watery smile.

"I am so... so happy you're home. Come on inside. I'll make you a cup of tea," She sniffled, dropping her hands from my face, allowing me inside and shut the door behind me.

Books, newspaper, mail, dishes were scattered everywhere. It looked as if someone had come into the house in an attempt to rob her, but couldn't find anything worth taking, so they simply trashed the place. Ignoring the mess, I followedmy mother into the kitchen. She hurried about, grabbing a teabag and fillled a cup full of water, before popping it into the microwave. I stood awkwardly in a corner watching her as she rushed from place to place in a quick attempt to tidy up a bit.

"I'm sorry. I was never a very organized person. That was always your father..." Embarrassed, she smiled. I just nodded, quietly stepping over to the table. Picking up some strewn papers out of a chair, I took a seat and set the papers on the table top. A bright red mug was placed in front of me, the teabag in it, the steaming water beginning to transform brown in color. I picked up the mug, rasing it to my lips and took a sip, my eyes busy inspecting the papers on the table top. My sight rested on an old photo album. Chewing on my lip, my eyes flickered between the album and my mother that stood next to me.

"May I...?" I asked softly.

My mother, nodded enthusiastically, clapping her hands over her mouth to hide a hopeful smile. I grabbed the book, running my hands over the cover with a sigh. There was my past, in this book. Yet why was I so scared to look into it? Sucking in a breath of air, I flippped open to the first page. There was my mother, only younger. She smiled brightly at the camera, years of obvious stress melted from her face leaving her vibrant and glowing. In her arms, a little girl with wide grey eyes and waist length black hair. The little girl was obviously me. A smile tugged at the corners of my lips, at the photo of my mother and I.

"Do you, maybe, remember that day?" My mother whispered, watching me intently.

I felt a pang of guilt. I was putting this poor woman through a world of toture. Frowning, I shut the photo book and set it back on the table. Standing up, I kept my gaze to the ground, not being able to look her in the eyes. "I'm sorry... I honestly don't," My voice voice replied, hushed to where it was almost unable to hear. My heart hurt for this woman, as I could practically hear her own breaking. All she wanted was her little girl back, but it was the one thing I couldn't give her...

Fresh tears welled in her eyes, as she nodded. "It's... It's a-alright, honey. You will, I promise..."

I took a step away from her. She was clinging to her hope, but her and I both knew that that was not a promise that could be kept. I opened my mouth to snap at her. To tell her off. To explain to her that there was no way she could promise me this, but the words wouldn't form as I stared at her. She was broken enough, I couldn't add insult to injury here. Whether I remember her or not she was my mother. And doing so, was something I couldn't bare.

Jamming my hands into my hoodie pockets, I shook my head. "I need to go for some air," I mumbled, pushing past the woman and out of the kitchen. She followed after me like a lost puppy, stopping me whenever I reached the front door.

"You will come back for dinner though, right?"

I forced a smile. "Of course," I said, before heading out the door and into the snow.

Tears stung my face, as I shuffled through the white fluff that cover the ground. I walked aimlessly for about thirty minutes bfore stumbling upon an rustic pub on the side of the road. Using my sleeve, I rubbed the water from my face and headed inside, taking a seat at the bar.

"What can I get'cha?" And old irish woman questioned from behind the bar. I smiled," Anything that will defrost me."