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I went to see your mom last night. And let me warn you, she looked like she is done with the world. With bags under her eyes, her usual warmth and radiance lacking, she looked like she hadn't slept in days. She misses you so much Ali. We all do.
She made us your favourite mac and cheese for dinner last night as we talked about you. Do you remember the last time we had dinner with her? She had spilled wine all over me by mistake so we had to run up to your old room to clean me up. We were acting like sneaky teenagers as we ran upstairs to clean up the mess.
Such happy times they were.
She did the same this time. Spilled her red wine all over my shirt since she's just as clumsy as you. Always tripping on thin air. So I had to go to your room to get myself one of my shirts that were thankfully, still in your old closet.
But this time, you weren't there to help me remove the stain. You didn't drag me upstairs as if we were running away from your once strict mother. Times have changed. You have changed. You don't listen to me anymore.
Please listen to me. That shirt stain is bothering me so much.
I'm sorry Oscar. But why are so saying old room? I don't get it.
My eyes drift to the woman sitting on one of the couches in my hospital room, her eyes fixated on the wall to the front. This woman is supposed to be my mom. But sadly, I have no remembrance of this.
When did my life come to this?
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YOU ARE READING
Letters To You ✓
Storie brevi[ short story ] Alisha Benedict wakes up in a hospital room, after being in a coma for six months with no idea about who she is. There, right next to her, lies a diary addressed to her, with handwritten letters - for her. The doctors claim that they...
