The Race

I will Remember you

I will Remember you

I shift my bag on my shoulder again, trying to ease the feeling back into my arm. My grey sweatpants and tight lulu lemon hoodie feel comfortable against my sore joints and muscles after 10 rounds of 100 meter sprints.

I raise my hand to rub at the back of my sore neck, dreaming of a hot bath when I get home.

Cami suggests walking home, because it's the best way to stretch yourself a little more after running. I love the walk, the first bit is on a dirt path through a pathway of tall trees with golden leaves. I close my eyes and take in a deep breath, letting my mind wander back to the past.

***Flashback***

"Run mommy!" I giggle, gurgling happily. "Yay yay yay mommy!" I cry from the bleachers as my mother finishes her sprint, beating her already stunning record.

My mom looks up at me with a large smile, throwing her water bottle to the side and taking the bleacher steps two at a time to reach me. I run to meet her halfway, and she lifts me into her arms.

"You did it mommy! You did it!" I smile against her, breathing in her familiar smell of warmth and the slightest hint of cinnamon and apples as a result of her favorite apple cinnamon tea. Now her comforting scent is mixed a little with perspiration, but I still wrap my small, six-year-old arms around her tightly.

"I did it Mo," my mother whispers against my thick black hair. "I did it. I love you honey."

"I love you too mommy." I murmur against her.

"How about we go meet Daddy and Naomi and celebrate?" My mom asks me excitedly, crouching down to my height. Naomi is my twin sister, though we look nothing alike. I pretend to hesitate. "Weeellll...." I say, quirking up my lip and slowly shrugging my shoulders. My mom's brilliant smile puckers. "What's wrong baby?" She asks concernedly. "You might want to shower first." I smile, showing her I am teasing, before I plug my nose. "You're smelly mommy." My mom throws her head back and laughs her contagious, angelic laugh. Her black hair is falling out of its sloppy bun, her forehead has beads of swear clinging to it, her face is flushed and makeup-less, but her stunning eyes - my eyes - are bright and she looks as beautiful as ever.

"You have to walk back home after a race. Always remember that honey, it's good to keep your muscles warm after a good stretch, before relaxing." My mom tells me, as she always does, while she gathers her bag and takes my hand, leading me down the tree covered dirt path that leads to the quiet streets of our neighborhood.

"Isn't this path beautiful, Mo?" My mother asks me. I nod my head enthusiastically. "Really pretty." I smile.

"Let's play a game," my mother suggests. "Which tree is your favorite baby?"

I think for a moment, inspecting all of the trees. Then I see a very tall, old looking tree with low hanging branches and a little pond beside it.

"That one. I love that one." I point at the old tree. "That one's my favorite too!" My mother says enthusiastically, lifting me into her arms and carrying me to the tree. She sets me on a branch hanging near her shoulders, and begins rummaging through her bag. "Whatcha lookin' for mommy?" I ask curiously in a singsong voice, swinging my legs back and forth from my perch on the branch.

"This." My mother says, drawing a silver pocket knife from her bag and flipping it open.

"Daddy says we're not allowed to play with knives." I tell her seriously. "He said 'no, no, no'" I mimic my father's deep voice, shaking my finger sternly as he did when he told me and my sister not to play with knives. "And then he snatched the knife right away from me and Mimi." I tell her, using the nickname I always use for my twin sister.

My mother chuckles and kisses me on the nose. "You're very right, you shouldn't play with knives. But mommy's an adult." My mother presses the blade to the bark of the tree, carving carefully into it with her tongue between her teeth. "And plus, I'm not playing with it." My mom winks at me. I giggle and watch her carve two letters into the bark with the blade. M and O. M O. MO. I think, working my brain. Where do I know that from?

"My name!" I giggle. "That's my name." I tell her proudly. "Yes it is." She agrees with me, working on a + and a T. Next comes an A, M, M, I, E.

"I can't read that one mommy." I tell her, squinting at the letters 'TAMMIE'.

"It spells Tammie. That's mommy's name." She explains, carving a heart around our names. "Oh, so it says 'Mo + Tammie." I say with understanding. My mother nods. "Mhmm." She says distractedly, carving smaller words into the bark under the heart.

"What's that say mommy?" I inquire.

My mother smiles at me, finishing the last few letters and dropping the knife back into her bag.

"You will figure it out when you're older. It's a surprise for you." She smiles at me, picking me up, off of the branch.

"Oh, I like surprises!" I clap my hands excitedly. My mother smiles warmly, taking my hand and continuing our walk.

We walk in companionable silence for a few moments, before my mom stops and looks at me.

"Promise me one thing, baby." She says, looking down at me. I look up at her. "Of course mum. What is it?" I ask.

My mother beams at me, her eyes filled with pride and love. "Promise me, that when you are older, you will come back and read what I just wrote on that tree. Promise me that every time you walk down this road, you will think about me."

"I promise mommy." I say, returning her gaze.

My mother smiles, breaking the seriousness of the moment. "There. I will never forget you, and you will never forget me." She promises.

"Of course I will never forget you mommy."

***End of Flashback***

I smile sadly at the memory, a memory I have replayed so many times I can almost smell the faint cinnamon of my mother.

I reach the tree, clambering up onto a low branch. I reach out and touch the carvings my mother made eleven years ago, thinking of the promise she made to me. Of how she broke it.

I know what the carving says by heart, but I still love to come and reread it every time I pass it.

~Mo+Tammie

I love you more than imaginable baby girl. Forever and always, no matter what.~

Or at least she did. When she could remember.

I let my fingers fall away from the carving, feeling a single tear slip from the corner of my blue eye.

'Of course she still loves you', I tell myself, as I have told myself so often before. Because surely if you say something enough times, you will begin to believe it. 'Just because she doesn't remember you doesn't mean she doesn't still love you. She must still have that love. You can't just forget that kind of love.' But then an equally familiar thought runs through my head, as it does every time.

'Or can you?'