L. Trinity Michaels. Op. 17

Chapter 4

I hear my alarm and roll out of bed. Monday morning is the worst part of the week so I've decided to do it quickly, without complaint, to get it over with.

I'm eager to see how Mom is doing this morning so I immediately head to her room.

In the hallway I see that Elizabeth is already in the bathroom, singing along to Top 40 at 7:30 in the morning as she does her hair and makeup. I just don't understand that. Why put that much effort into it when it will be messed up in gym and the shower will undo it completely? Whatever. That's her time to manage.

I walk into Mom's room expecting her to be asleep. There is a body-shaped lump of comforters by her pillow. I reach out to shake her awake but my hand falls right into the lump. I yank my hand out and pull it to my chest.

Where is she? Will she need my help? I should have checked on her earlier. This is all my fault!

"Breakfast!"

What?

I run out into the hallway and stop at the bathroom door. Elizabeth and her freshly-curled hair were just about to leave the bathroom, phone in hand.

"Mom made breakfast. Didn't you hear?" She gives me a look suggesting that I'm the dumbest living person on the face of the earth.

I reach to push up my glasses and become aware that I haven't put them on yet. I feel my hair too, confirming that I haven't been through my morning routine. Realizing that I probably am the dumbest person on the face of the earth, I slide my hands down my face and rest them on my hips.

"Yeah, I heard. Just need to get my glasses." I point behind her. I'm trying desperately not to look awkward and am failing terribly.

"Um... ok?" She steps around me and heads down the stairs with that look was still plastered on her face.

I run through my routine and then head down stairs. I smell waffles as I turn the corner into the kitchen. Mom is there, as perky and mom-like as possible.

I shouldn't be surprised about this. Yesterday she was basically ok. She just needing the day to relax. Mom always recovers from these things quickly but I always think it will take longer than it does. I don't know why but I feel like she needs us more than we need her. This doesn't make any sense though because I know that if she ever went completely out, Elizabeth and I would be miserable. We will always be there for her when she needs us but we need her to be our mom. Moms are supposed to be there all the time.

Thinking like this makes me grateful to have a family even if it is a little broken. We make it work.

I walk over and envelope her in a hug.

She seems startled by this but hugs back like she always does. I emerge from her arms and she asks if I'm hungry.

"Very." I go and join Elizabeth on our spinny stools by the counter while Mom fixes our plates. Then she delivers our meals and leans against the counter in front of us to eat hers.

We eat breakfast and talk about our plans for the day as usual. Gradually, through the meal I let myself come out of responsible-for-everything-and-everyone mode and slip back into teenage-nerd-girl mode.

This family is back to the usual. Finally.

                                                                                    ~~~

The outcome of the morning has left me in a great mood. My mood only broadens when I see Gabby jogging toward me flailing a piece of paper with one hand and clutching her books in the other.