I stood shocked, unable to move or breath. Still, I stare at the pieces that lie on the ground in front of me. Beads of sweat roll down my face. "I-I-I must be seeing things," I struggle to say after what feels like years of silence. Memories flood back from the time I learned about the crash. The day I learned mom wasn't coming home. I remember...
I sit in the living room, waiting for mom to get back. She's a few hours late, but I'm sure that she had errands to run. "I'll give her some more time," I tell myself. Finally, I hear the doorbell. While running to the door to greet her, I glance out of the window. "Uncle T?" I say. I see his red Lamborghini is parked in front of my house.
At this point, I start walking. Worried thoughts pile on one another, leaving me no room to think clearly. I open the door and welcome him. "Hi, Uncle T!" I yell, trying to mask my feelings. "What brings you here so la-" I stop. Uncle T isn't smiling like he always does when he comes over. Instead, he looked sad, even though his shades cover his eyes. I stand a few seconds before breaking the silence. "Is anything wrong?" I ask. When he doesn't answer, a nervous feeling washes over me. I look down, waiting for him to speak, or even move. "There's been an accident," he finally responds.
My heart rate increases, and I feel a lump in my throat. "Who was it?" I ask, my voice unsteady. "Natasha." Everything stopped, at least in my head. "Mom?" my voice croaks out. "I'm sorry," is all he tells me. I couldn't breath, but when I finally did, it came out as a cry. All I could feel was the hot tears on my cheeks, my broken heart, and my uncle's arms around me. My loud cries filled my ears, and I cover my face, embarrassed to let my uncle see me in such a condition. Uncle Thomas strokes my hair, and waits for me to stop.
I feel tears tugging at my eyes at the thought of seeing her again. I gain my composure and gather the rubble on the hardwood floor. I jog up the stairs, grabbing screwdrivers and duct tape to try to fix it. If there's any chance to tell my mom I love her one last time, I'll take it. Whether she's dead or alive.
For hours, I fiddle and tinker with the camera. Despite my efforts, I couldn't figure out the strange parts that came with it. It was built like no other camera I'd seen before. Strange round parts that ended with springs and coils, little pellets that spilled out of the frame, and film that was shaped so oddly, the camera shouldn't have even been capable of taking a picture. "What?" I grumble, annoyed. I groan and slam my tools on the desk. I can't do it.
"I'll have to see what I can do tomorrow." I get up from my chair and change into my pajamas. Climbing into bed, all I could think about was that camera. My new-found source of reconnecting with my mom. I could talk to her after this never-ending time interval of 11 months. A smile spread itself on my face. I looked across my room at the shards, feeling happy for the first time in forever. (That's a joke for all you Frozen Fans. :) )
