Promises

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I never saw my mom again. Not even after my dad told me she was dead. I didn’t think it was fair. Mai told me that when her great grandpa from the Philippines died they put him in a big fancy box and let people take him flowers and pictures and they got to walk up and see him. She said I wasn’t missing out on anything; dead people smell weird and look like plastic. I got mad at her for saying that. My mom would never look like plastic and she always smelled like lavender. Still, I didn’t get to see her again. The last time I saw her was the night before she died. She told me she loved me in the softest, sweetest, best-mom-ever, kind of voice as she tucked me in then she kissed my cheek right before I fell sleep.
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After the day at the hospital everything became a blur. Most of what I remember is from after Mom’s service. Lots of people came back to our house. Dad said they’re all family and introduced everyone to me as they came up to us but I didn’t recognize most of them. Even though I didn’t know them they all said they love me and that they’re sorry. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t react. I didn’t cry. I just held onto Dad’s hand and didn’t let go for anything. Dad had to talk for the both of us, I felt a little bad but I stayed as quiet as possible anyway. I was afraid to talk because I thought that if I did, someone would say something nice to me. I didn’t want nice words, I didn’t want another stranger telling me how much they loved me or how sorry they were for my loss, all I want is my mom, and if I can’t have her I want to be alone.
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‘I’m so glad it’s over’, is all I can think as we shut the door on the last “family member”. Its 12:43 A.M. already almost 4 hours past my bedtime. I’m positively not staying up to clean so I pull Dad towards my room so he can tuck me in. “Luz, I have to get something just wait for me in your room.” Dad said tiredly. I nod and make my way upstairs. As I sit on my bed I realize I’m still in my funeral clothes.
“Too tired.” I say to myself as I stare out my window.
“For what?” dad asks, startling me, as he walks through my doorway.
“What’s that?” I ask while pointing to the beat up box thing in his hand.
“It’s uhm…” he paused, “sweetie it’s the surprise your mother was bringing home. The firemen said they’d found this package in the back of the car when they towed it and thought we might want it. I don’t know what else it might be so I want you to be the one to open it.” He handed it to me before changing his mind and saying, “It’s up to you if you open it or not but I want you to have it…goodnight sweetie, I love you and I know your mother loved you very much.” He said and walked out.
I slowly set it down and get up to shut my door. I turn around stiffly and stare at IT just sitting on my bed. I can’t move any closer. I stand my ground and take it all in. It was a weird shape. Rectangular for sure but it isn’t in very good condition, ugly almost. ‘Remember Luz, this box survived a car crash, and those are just battle scars.’ I finally walked to my bed sat down and took the package in my lap. ‘Blue’ I think, as I look the box over. ‘Mom knew me best’; blue is my favorite color even though I say it’s pink. ‘It’s just all the girls at school like pink, I don’t want to be different’, I reason with myself for lying.
As I unlace the scorched blue ribbon hugging the box I silently guess at what it might be. ‘Jewelry? A book maybe?’ Once the ribbon was off I hold the box in front of me to size it up a little closer. It’s so pretty. It looks like the night sky outside my window as the dark blue contrasts with the silver sequins dotting the sides. “Stars in the sky are the loved ones we’ve lost,” I say quietly to myself as tears stream down my cheeks. I gingerly lift the top off the box with my eyes closed, ‘what if I don’t like it? I haven’t seen it yet I can still put the top back on and forget it.’ I give up and throw the top across the room to remove the option of closing the box up again. I force my eyes open. ‘A notebook? Mom died to get me a NOTEBOOK?!’ I pull it out of the box and notice the colors and patterns. It’s a deep purple color with a flowery black and white pattern running down the middle. I flip through the pages and see they’re bordered with a swirly gray pattern and don’t have lines. ‘No lines, so it’s a drawing notebook?’ I had to admit it was kind of pretty. Then I notice the note written in mom’s long precise cursive on the first beautifully bordered page.
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Hi baby. Happy Birthday! You’re getting to be such a beautiful girl. You’re eleven now and you’ll be starting middle school soon. I got you this sketchbook to see if you might like to try to find a hobby. You don’t have to draw in this; you can write stories or poems or anything you want, but I know you’ll do great things. You’re my beautiful, amazing, talented, little girl and you always will be. I love you forever, I promise. – Mom
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