bare [h.s.]

Happy

I came through the front door
the next morning, my mother
waiting for me patiently at her desk.
She saw the smile that was glued to
my lips from the night I spent with Harry, and she's been staring
at me since.

"You seem different," she says,
lightly tapping her index finger against her lips, trying to figure out why or how. I shyly tuck my hair behind my ear and shrug,
avoiding her eyes.

"I guess I'm just--I don't know."

She opens her arms, motioning
for me to welcome her embrace.
I do so, and she wraps her arms around my body as I gently sit on her lap, like I used to do as a small girl.

"I won't pry about what you two did-or do, because that is your business only and you are so much better with him," she whispers into my ear as I rest my head back against her chest.
She presses her lips against my
forehead as her eyes flutter shut.
"If it wasn't for him, I fear we would've lost you, Sawyer.
And never would my heart have healed from losing you."

I inhale deeply, the scent of her perfume filling my senses. I don't remember the last time that my mother held me like this, or when
she shared her feelings about me
to my own face.
But I like it.

"I'm not leaving, Momma," I promise,
my fingers soothing the back of her
aging hand. "Because I have decided
that I am happy."

She squeezes my hand in her own,
"Are you?"

I pull myself off of her lap,
giving her one last hug.
"He's made me realize that
I can be good. I can be happy.
And that's how I'm different.
I am happy."