Long nights and street lights

The story

I was always pitied. Maybe that's one of the reasons why I went off the rails and no one steered me back on, they were all too soft on me because I was "the girl without a mother". Even my Dad excused me from many things that should have resulted in punishment. Maybe if I had a mother, I would be somewhere different today.

Dad told me the story once. I think I was twelve, and it was never mentioned again. I knew it would be the only time he would mention it, so I wrote it down immediately after. He sat me down on my bed, breathed a deep sigh then it all came rushing out. Word vomit, as some would say. He avoided tears by staring out the window and speaking as fast as he possibly could. It went a little something like this.

"Melanie," he said tenderly before adding "your mother," as if he needed to remind me. "She loved adventure, she loved walks, she loved nature and she loved the sun."
None of this was news to me.
"You had just turned three. She loved you wholly, as did I. She had not long gone back to working at the bank. She had also started getting fit again, although she never really lost condition or gained weight."
To be honest, I can't ever imagine my mother being overweight. Both her and Dad were fit, tall and slim. As am I, I can eat as much as I want really and not have a single care about gaining weight.

"She was taking daily morning walks out the back of our house and through the forest. Nothing suspicious about that I guess, and I never worried about her either. She always returned before eight so she could shower and be at work at nine."
Melanie was punctual, but she was also very fast, at everything, from driving to dressing.
"December 18, 1995. Just an ordinary day. It was her last week at work before Christmas. She crept out at her usual time of seven. I watched her go. Not realising that it would be the last I saw of her."

It's funny like that isn't it. You never know when it'll be your last.