Reality's a Brute

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

TW: death
Based on what happened this morning.

I was lying on my twin-sized bed in the older house. Quilt blankets and a soft mattress sandwiched me. I was sad. Mom was on the phone. She had been talking about a trip to San Francisco with one of her friends. When was the last time she was home? WHen was the last time she thought about her family?

She came in, I don't know why. Maybe to tuck me in, maybe I called her. She was on the phone, but she hung up as she lay down beside me, propped up by one arm. 

I asked her about the trip. She was looking forward to it. I asked her if I could go. She hesitated, but acquiesced. 

I didn't look at her. I was hurt. A mother should be more involved with her children, with her family. She was always so busy. When he was home, her other life was all she talked about until she ran out of the door again. 

I started to fall asleep, my eyelids drooping. I was trying desperately to stay awake to ask my mom the question that had been bothering me: Mom, do you still love me?

But as I fought to stay awake in the dream, I woke up in my new queen-sized bed in the newer house. And as soon as I woke, I knew the sad truth: Mom was dead, and I wouldn't know the answer to my question. 

Submitted: December 18, 2020

© Copyright 2021 Aia Bunny. All rights reserved.

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