I remember waking up in my dads two story house all excited to go to my mothers hotel room in the middle of nowhere. I remember having everything and it never being enough, because my mother wasn't there. I remember sitting in her hotel room where all three of us shared a single bed. I remember my mom trying to make a fancy meal since we were there. She could cook better than any chef I've ever met. She made ravioli in the broken microwave as my brother and I both complained about how long it was taking. She kept on cooking anyways. She was my hero until she started leaving the hotel room in the middle of the night. She was wonderful until she started hallucinating what was happening in real life. She was a star until the drugs in the needle took the spark out of her eyes and replaced it with anger and addiction. My mom was my mom until she became a stranger.
