My Lost Daughter

Chapter 1

I remember the day so fine. The school year was only two weeks in. A Monday. She was sleeping peacefully while I picked out her clothes. Her face looked so pure, so young as a beam of light shined on her forehead through the blinds. I picked out a warm honeysuckle pink outfit. It didn't seem too pink because there was sparks of lime green on the shirt and on the bow I had also picked out to go in her thing light brown hair.

I crouch down next to her and slightly whisper "Samantha, time to wake up."

"It's Sammi" she replies still half asleep.

Only in fourth grade and she already wants to change her name. I leave the room to let her get dressed because like she lectured me before the first day of school, she's a "big girl now." Kids. 

I walk into the kitchen and yell back at her "What do you want for breakfast? Waffles, french toast, uh..."

"Cereal!"

Cereal? Did this child just asked me for cereal?

"Are you sure? We have time to make waffles."

"I'm sure!"

Cereal it is.

She walks out of her room and jumps up into a chair for the island. "Can't we eat at the table today?"

"Nope."

The island kills the knees of the elders, AKA me. Samantha--I mean Sammi, acts as if she's scared of eating at the table, almost like it's a sensitive spot to eat or just to sit and color. After her father died in that car accident she just will not sit there. Poor daddy's little girl.

"Oh my god, look at the time!" I grab Samantha's bowl along with mine and quickly drop them off in the sink.

"Hey! I wasn't finished." Samantha whines.

"Well, we're running late." I reply as I lift her up from the chair, "Run and get your backpack and lunch bag; lunch is on the counter." I say as I run for the car keys, "Sam where are the keys?"

"I thought you had time to make waffles," she yells from her bedroom as she zips out to grab lunch.

"Well, I must've read the time wrong--look, I don't know, where are the keys?! Samantha?" I was flipping through papers looking under cushions by now.

She walks into the door way jingling the keys up and down while she says "It's Sammi."

We board the car and pull out of the drive way as fast as possible. As I pull up to the school I tell Sammi "I'm gonna need you to walk home today after school, I'm doing over-time." She moans, but then replies "Fine."

I watch her attempt to open the big heavy doors. Above in big, bold, bronze letters read BULTON ELEMENTARY SCHOOL. It's a very long school with three stories; we have a big town. The doors are so heavy a security monitor has to help her open it. I smile a little as I drive off thinking off how to enjoy my wonderful over-time.