Good Drugs

One Last Adventure

I love the morning because it sheds me from all of yesterday's problems. I adore the way the sun reaches through my windows like the strobes of a disco ball in the middle of a dance hall. With our arms tied around the sun, I feel nothing but warmth, and it's moments like this that I'm not afraid to close my eyes.

Morning is like a stumbling kiss, the warm precipitation weaves between the coral and cantaloupe blue steel of the sky, casting its bright colors out like a net onto the open cylinders. The birds hum loudly, vibrato in their red chest as they guzzle their breakfast in the rustic dark soil. I'm blessed to drink the daylight's like cider.

Thinking of you, is my morning.

"Dean?" I smiled, murmuring in my dreams as light crept into the quiet confines of my room.

I sighed, dreamily snuggling a moment longer underneath my covers.

It seemed like yesterday I was hopeless and now I felt better. Nothing was left to hide and it felt good. I had released all my demons and past hurt, and perhaps my mom and I could finally move on.

I groaned, patting the empty spaces of my bed as I sleepily searched for a familiar touch.

"Dean?!" I yelled.

After two more minutes of silence, I slowly peeled open my eyes only to stare at my empty room.

I huffed annoyed, Dean and I had fallen asleep last night talking and I was hoping I could wake up in arms too.

I yawned, my mirror revealed a crazy looking raccoon with pink hair that puffed up like a blow fish. It was so not cute to be me.

I knew Dean was preparing for his goodbye party. He was probably packing but still a girl could dream, and wish for a few more moments in paradise.

I heard the familiar clanking in the kitchen as my mom made breakfast. I hoped out of bed, eager to speak to her.

The morning smelled like cinnamon as the sweet drizzle wavered from the kitchen counter tops, along with a dash of nutmeg to turn the day to sweet delight.

The passion is my mom's warm sunken amber eyes reached to me, with astonishingly tender waves that pulsed into the core of the ocean. She loved me, her eyes bore it like a tattoo, and it kindled with a feeling that only a mother could have.

She loved me, despite my shortcomings.

"Mom!" I hiccuped, running into her arms.

"Cleo" she said softly as I squeezed.

Her fingers ran through my unruly hair, as she smoothed out all my pink tangles.

"I made cinnamon rolls, I thought we could try to be closer" she gushed shyly.

"I would love to!" I said between licks of icing.

My mom swatted my hand away from the bowl, "go make the table" she insisted.

I rolled my eyes, "oh so you're only nice when you want something?" I teased playfully as I grabbed the utensils.

My mom jerked her wheelchair forward, her hands on the wheels like she was a race car driver, "you want me to run you over?" she joked.

I nodded no, as I quickly set the table.

"So what's going on with you and Dean, now that he knows?" my mom asked.

I sipped my orange juice, "even less than before" I admitted sadly, "I told him I wanted to make us official and he said he was leaving and never coming back, blah blah blah" I mimicked making a sour face.