Copyright © zylgnagnaba 2013
Bree's POV
I regain my energy today as I wake up from yesterday's very tiresome travel all the way from my home city. Thanks for the at least seven hours of sleep. It's almost 12 noon so I figure to call the room service to stuff my empty stomach with delightful dish. I ordered a vegie salad and a salmon. I'm not dieting but I was thinking about the amount of money I'll spend on this stay. I guess I could save more when I just eat truckloads out on a restaurant. But right now, I have no choice but to call the room service. I'm really starving.
What the heck? My stuffs are still on the floor. I was just so tired last night that I just left my suitcase lying there, jumped on the bed and let sleep take over my tedious physique. I'm even still wearing the clothes from yesterday. Poor girl!
It has always been a habit of mine that before I go out of my room, I take time to meditate in my window. But I'm in a hotel and there's no difference at least there's a window.
I head to open the window of my suite near my bed, imagining the view outside of my bedroom in Woodford; the tall tree, the green grass, the fresh air. It even brought me back to the time when mom is beautifying our front yard.
Her name's Jasmine. Mom said she was named after my grandma's favourite flower. I was eight then, weekend on a spring season. It was early in the morning after breakfast. She was planting beautiful sunflowers in our front yard. I was her apprentice, trying to help her. But I think I was making her work a little harder for her because as she finishes one pot, I rip another plant. But she must be too patient with me because she just kept on teaching me what to do. For a green-handed like her, I must say she really did a great job because the flowers lasted until winter. And we kept doing that every spring. It was some kind of bonding between us. My dadjust took pictures of her two beautiful girls, bringing up jokes that I find really corny but mom laughs at them every time. I don't know, maybe it's some kind of language between them that I didn't really understood. It made a whole lot of difference when she's gone. As I try to continue our family tradition, the garden just turns into an empty lot. I was trying to get help from dad, but he always refuse to. I understand him. It's just so hard.
She was really beautiful. She was always strong. She was just always happy. It was her gorgeous smile that makes me feel relieved in the mid of being scared every time I break one of my father's camera tools, or bruising myself after playing in the woods. She's just an angel that I feel so secured whenever I see her arms wide open, waiting for me to run and hug her every time she fetches me from school. Until I saw her one night, my dad was late from work; she was banging herself on the headboard of their bed. It was the very first time I saw her in great agony, crying. I was crying too while hiding behind the door. I didn't want her to see me looking at her suffering from too much pain. I couldn't take it. I ran to my bedroom, there I cried silently over what I just witnessed from my parents' room. That went on for couple of weeks, months and years until I turned twelve but no one has told me what really was going on. I was innocent but I felt the need to do something. I wanted to take that pain my mom was suffering each night.
One day, my dad took me from school. The rain was pouring hard. I didn't know what was happening. He just looked so worried. His hands were sweating. I saw the moist on the clutch of our car as he was driving. At first, I was surprised that it was dad who fetched me because he's usually busy at the office. I didn't mind though. I was even happier to see him. But what happened to mom? I was so young to understand.
Then I knew we were going on a different direction. We're not going straight home. I asked him where we're going but he didn't answer. Or maybe he wasn't even listening as I spoke. Next thing I knew was that we stopped in a very familiar white building. It was where my aunt Sophia, my Dad's sister, gave birth to my little cousin Kevin. Yes, we're in a hospital. But I didn't know anyone from my family who's giving birth, or pregnant even. My Dad held my hand as we were walking through a shallow hall. We reached a room, stood there were five familiar people. I was shocked when I saw my Grandma Lily, Mom's mother, wiping her tears with her linen handkerchief while sitting beside the person lying on the hospital bed. Stood beside my grand mom is Grandpa Chaz, he was just silent, controlling his tears. The other three are Uncles Will, Tom and Aunt Daisy, also weeping. What is happening?My innocent mind queries.

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