One Day [PRN]

Nine

The next morning, sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. I stretched slowly, feeling the weight of my belly more than ever as I got out of bed. I hadn't packed anything for this trip home, so I rummaged through my old dresser and pulled out some clothes I had left behind—clothes that hadn't been touched in months.

I chuckled to myself as I slipped into a faded old t-shirt and a pair of pajama pants. The pants barely fit, and the shirt hugged my belly in a way that was almost comical. It was tight, straining over the curve of my bump, and as I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I couldn't help but shake my head.

Making my way to the kitchen, I found my mom already bustling around, getting things ready for breakfast. The smell of coffee and frying bacon filled the air, a comforting scent that took me back to easier, simpler mornings.

"Morning," I said, my voice still a little groggy from sleep as I leaned against the counter.

Mom turned around, took one look at me, and burst into laughter. "Oh, my goodness! Look at you!" she exclaimed, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "That shirt is practically painted on, baby!"

I laughed with her, feeling a little embarrassed but mostly finding the humor in it. "Yeah, I didn't really plan for this," I said, gesturing to my belly. "Nothing fits anymore."

"You're adorable," she teased, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "But we're going to have to find you something a little more comfortable today."

I joined her in the kitchen, helping crack eggs and butter toast as we worked side by side. The morning felt peaceful, light—so different from the tension of the night before. It was a reminder of what I had missed: the easy rhythm of being at home, the comfort of these small moments with my mom.

As we cooked, we talked about little things, nothing too heavy. We avoided the bigger topics, like Prince or my dad's anger. I think we both needed the break, a moment to just be, without the weight of everything else hanging over us.

When breakfast was ready, we sat down together, the table set with scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. As we ate, Mom glanced at me again, a soft smile playing on her lips. "You know, you're going to make a great mom," she said quietly, her voice filled with warmth.

I smiled, a little shy under her gaze. "Thanks, Mom. I hope so."

The rest of the morning passed in that same light, easy way, and for the first time in a while, I felt like I could breathe. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough for now.

...

During the next few days, my mom really made an effort to spend time with me, just like old times. She had taken time off from her job as a nurse, wanting to be there for me, especially given everything that had happened.

One morning after breakfast, we decided to head out and revisit some of our old favorite spots. We started at a couple of thrift stores, browsing through racks of clothes and vintage knick-knacks, just like we used to. It felt comforting, slipping back into that familiar rhythm with her. We didn't have any particular goal in mind, but we both found little things that caught our eye.

Afterward, we hit up an outlet mall. We weren't planning on spending much, but we found a cute little outfit for the baby—something soft and simple. My mom smiled as she held it up, imagining her future grandson wearing it. I could tell that despite her initial shock and confusion, she was coming to terms with everything, and moments like these made her excitement for the baby start to shine through.

We grabbed lunch at a small café, reminiscing over sandwiches and iced tea. The day felt light, filled with little moments of laughter and shared memories, and it was a much-needed break from the heaviness that had surrounded everything lately. Being with my mom like this reminded me of how much she had always been my rock, even when things got complicated.