Forsaking Lilly

Chapter Three

Getting up the next morning was a working process. For whatever reason, I just couldn't seem to roll out of bed and start my day. Maybe it was the grief consuming my energy, or maybe its because I'm lazy. Regardless of the reason, I couldn't will myself to wake up. Maybe I laid in bed too long though, because windows that I didn't even know existed were pulled open. Sunlight flooded the room with an alarming amount. I cringed from it immediately and buried my head under the covers.

" Come on calla, don't be lazy. It's time to wake up! " My mother's piercing voice seemed to bounce off every wall before they found my ears.

" Go away, I really don't want to." I snuggled down into the bed, hoping that this would be the end of our conversation. I should have known better. In a very heartbreaking motion, my mother ripped the blankets off of my head and ruffled my hair. " I'll make pancakes." She kissed me on top of the head and then made her way out of my room.

Sighing, I flipped the covers the rest of the way back and slid out of bed. As routine, I turned and made my bed then flopped around towards my bathroom. I yawned and scratched my head, I could make my way to the bathroom with my eyes closed. Hell, this had been my home for 17 years. Pause. My eyes fluttered open and immediately I reminded myself that I had moved. This was a new home, in a new town, in a new state. Fresh start.Helplessly, I took a step a back and searched my new surroundings. This was a task that I didn't do the night before, so it was important that I did it now.

The first thing I noticed, were the big bay windows my mother had opened. They were ceiling-to-floor and faced the back yard which seemed to fade into the woods. If I looked a little closer, I could tell that two of the windows were actually french doors that would lead me out to the back. The back yard was beautiful, it was just as well-manicured as the front lawn and I had the strangest desire to garden.

The second thing that caught my eye was the decor of my room. The color theme was soft pastels of blue, lavender, and white. The rug, curtains for the windows, bed set, and walls shared this theme. Across the room I spotted a closet and I immediately walked over to it. When I reached it, I opened the door to find a wonderful walk-in closet. I released a sigh of pleasure and found myself smiling. As much as I hate to admit it, this room was better than my old one. The only thing it didn't have was a private bathroom. Pity.

Satisfied with exploring my room, I walked out into the hall seeking a bathroom. Immediately, my nostrils filled with the scent of food, my one and only weakness. I followed the smell obediently and found myself standing in the kitchen watching my mother scramble eggs. " I thought you said you were making pancakes," I whined. She laughed at me, shaking her head and sending thick auburn locks around her shoulders.

" I felt more in the mood for eggs, bacon, sausage...Oh, and grits." By the time she'd finished her statement, I was drooling all over myself. But, then I remembered my bed head and disgusting morning breath.

" Oh, mom where's the bathroom?"

" It's the door across the hall from your room," she chimed as she pushed the perfectly scrambled eggs on a plate. Oh yummy. Ready to be clean and desperate to eat, I turned around and ran down the hall to the proper room. I brushed my hair, brushed my teeth, washed my face, and exited. I practically skipped back to the kitchen and seated myself at the stool that Lynette had occupied just yesterday.

Mesmerized, I watched my mother fry bacon and make grits. After about ten to fifteen minutes, a hot plate of breakfast was placed in front of me and I was almost quivering with anticipation. I waited excitedly as she placed butter and sugar on the counter,and once she backed away from it I attacked. I mixed butter into my grits and sprinkled them with sugar. My mother chuckled at me, she always found my unquenchable hunger humorous.