The ugly old
yellow room seems to shrink as time drudges by. The air is suffocatingly hot,
stale, and sticky. I hold my breath, timing each round, slowly watching moments
go by.
A tug at my throat,
and my eyes start to water. Hold it for
five more seconds…two more…almost done…. I take a giant, and yet quiet gulp
of sour air. Three more lousy never ending minutes.
Papers begin to
rustle. Binders are shoved into already full bags. Desks shift and creak as
lethargic teens begin to shuffle towards the looming door. I join the mass, and
drift close to the afternoon gate.
The exhausting
buzzer of freedom sounds, and bodies slowly start pouring out, like sand
through a funnel. A wave of cool air brushes across my face, willing me to
escape into the abyss.
I can see the
bright blue sky, the twinkling ocean, and the pleasant red papery flowers
cascading over the fence. The path is long, and my feet seem to drag as I make
my way to the front of school. Each slow step is one towards to comforting arms
of my mother and the new calmness of home.
I can see the
shimmering head of red bounce in my direction.
“Hi,”
“Hi. Do you see
Mom? I just want to go home.”
* *
*
The familiar
squeaking van pulled into the drive, but the silhouette within was unexpected.
I wonder where Mom is? Oh well, I’ll tell
Dad about what Natalie said.
“So today I told
Natalie how we are all getting super excited. We are in the two weeks range, so
its fair game anytime. She said that whenever we left, I should call her right
away.”
“That’s funny you
said that. Today it hit me that I should call my mom and dad. You know if we
need to leave, somebody will need ta be here for ya. I just got off the phone
with them before I came to get you, and I hope it all works out. They have to
work in the mornings a couple days a week, and I’m nervous that we won’t be
able to get a’hold of em.”
* *
*
The strange creek
of a garage door floated in the open wind. A familiar, slightly beat-up door,
rose into view. The low squeaking rumble of the car dissipated. I stepped into
the comfortable house and sighed a breath of relief. Light streamed through
pail blinds, illuminating the new carpet. I walked directly into the room. My
body and bags hit the floor within moments of each other. I’ll lay on fresh
ground, smelling the newness of it, and drinking in the new memories.
“I love the new
carpet. I can’t even remember what the old stuff looked like. Maybe we’re lucky
we had a flood. This must be way better then what we had before,” I said to
inattentive ears.
I gradually picked
myself up, and walked towards the friendly kitchen. As I rounded the corner, I
nearly ran into my mother. The two of us laughed, and soon my arms flew around
her smiling body. I hugged her long and hard, pressing myself against her
protruding belly.
“I love you Mom.”
My nose crinkles,
as her auburn hair tickles my face. I enjoy the peaceful moment, sensing the
softness of her skin, and sweet smell of her perfume. A sudden rush of chaotic noise
flies into the hall, and overcomes the two of us. Bug off. Find your own person to hug.
I reluctantly turn
away as my mother embraces another speed-talking daughter.
* *
*
Snack
in hand and thoughts in tow, I head to the city hall
of Parentingville , USA . On the outskirts of town,
between the corner and the door, I get a funny sense flowing through me. For
some reason, I pull over and listen quietly in the darkened bathroom. A silent commotion
seems to be erupting among the folded laundry, and cell phone ridden room. Who’s he talking to? Grandma? Didn’t they
just talk? Wait, what was she feeling all weekend long? How come no one told
me? Stop playing the piano Lauren, I can’t hear him!
Curiosity,
excitement, and giddiness overcome me, and I find myself wandering into the
room. I plop myself down in the middle of the room, eating my snack, looking
innocent.
* *
*
The
rickety door slams behind me, echoing past my ears. The silver car pulls down
the drive, seemingly in slow motion, and yet with direct force. I wave excited
and scared, but they don’t see me. I watch as they drive into the sun, hoping
the next time I see my mother will bring unexplainable joy. My stomach aches as
they disappear, fighting the worry of loss and fear. What did Dad want? What am I gathering? Where’s Emma? How long will it
take? Should they have taken a towel? It would cost a lot of money to redo the
seat.
* *
*
The
house is surreally quiet. A pile of things wait patiently by the door. Our ears
perk at the sound of any car. Breaks squeaking. Doors closing. I lose focus,
and drift into thought of the building yet to be seen, the emotions still to be
felt. Suddenly the large door brushes open, and the round, loving figure of my
grandmother enters the room?
“Where
is everybody? We have things to do! Dad and I need to use the bathroom, and
then we’ll be off.”
I
load my shoulders with bags of seemingly meaningless things. I drag my weighted
body to the car, and pretend not to be excited. We quickly seat ourselves,
trying not to show our excitement.
* *
*
My
seatbelt tugs at my bladder, as the stop-go of traffic tortures us with want.
Can’t they see we have somewhere to be? When did Grandpa start driving like an
old man? Come on, you can go faster.
We
pass exit after exit, but never drawing nearer to our destination. Without
noticing, we slowly turn off the road, and are immersed in a jungle of roads
and lights.
* *
*
The large building
looms ahead, half greeting, half urging me to turn away. I fight the urge to
drop the bags and run inside. I train my feet to walk slowly, pain in every
step. We wander the cold, tart smelling halls, and enter a chalk smelling
lobby. A couple worn couches dare me to sit. An oddly young woman, whimpers and
complains right before us. I wrestle the thought to scold, but something stops
me, pulling at my heart, knowing there is more than I can see. Before I can
move, a familiar voice calls out, echoing in its hushness. We follow the
beaming man down the wide hall, silent and anxious. I gingerly step into a dark
room, filled with the eerie colors of fall. The large room seems empty except
for a bulky bed. An orange glow surrounds my mother, the murky sunset
illuminating her face.
I start to shrink
from intimidation, but an unknown force draws my eyes upward. I breath deep and
stare into the face of my worried, but determined mother. She trembles, but is
firm in her conviction; I draw strength from the sight of her pained body. Just sit. Wait.
* *
*
The
black sky twinkles with ideas. My eyes are heavy, but my heart is still
pounding. I miss my mother. The soft snores of the next room lull me to sleep,
as my brain wills me to stay awake. I listen intently for the sound of my dad,
but it never comes. I drift softly to sleep, remembering her curly caramel
hair, sharp blue eyes, and perfect fingers. I will see her soon, and we will
make memories on the new carpet, staring at the sky.
