My earliest memories are of my mum. I remember being a tot and my mother and I going to the local ice cream parlor and sharing a large strawberry milkshake. She would whisper silly words into my ears and we would laugh and laugh.
She'd give me twenty-five cents or so to put in a machine that revolved your quarter around and spat back out a small play thing in a capsule.
It was the biggest deal to me then.I guess maybe it was the consternation of the unforeseen or the surprise of what you ended up with, though I'll never be quite sure.
Looking back on it, I think about what a trivial process it was. I would beg and beg her for the quarter even though she seldom didn't give it to me. Then i would peer into the glass separating the toys from the hands of children and pick out the one i wanted, as if i would get that one. I would kiss the quarter ( i cringe now) and hope that somehow i would get that one toy.
The toys probably didn't cost the toy maker more than a penny to make, but I treated them as if they were pure gold. I'd say nine times out of ten I would get one I didn't want, maybe if I was lucky I'd get a butterfly tattoo or slime.
Leaving defeated I would beg and plead for another twenty-five cents though my mother would invariably say no. Nodding and accepting the answer without reason we would leave holding hands and come back the next week.
I think I've always thought like this. No matter how bad the toy was, how bad the outcome, I would always come back because all the pain or struggle i suffered prior was completely washed away by the tidal wave of satisfaction and prosper that came from the good. And i'd like to think that's something my mother instilled in me. She was my hero, someone who could turn grey skies blue. She was invincible. She was eternal.
When I was five my mother had long brown hair and gleaming green eyes, radiating beauty and happiness.
When I was 9 my mother grew ill, a lump that the doctors once said was harmless turned into a malignant entity.
When I was twelve my hero was lain dead inside of a wooden box in the cold,hard dirt.
Her death wasn't quick and unexpected,it was the exact opposite. We all knew it was going to come but it just took a long time for it to actually happen.
All of my years as a child I was prepared for her imminent death. "Darling you've got to stay strong for me, can you do that baby?" my mother would say.
When she couldn't stop my tears from escaping she'd coo to me "Shh it's alright, you're alright". Whenever I cried she would put her hand under the back of my shirt and rub small circles easing away my pain.
As a young child when you're told your mother is going to die, it takes a few days to process the information you've been told. It doesn't click until you realize that the person you've known since birth, the person who kisses your scrapes away, the person who was your everything will be gone forever and you will never be in their presence again.
When I finally I realized it, when it finally clicked; I broke.
But per usual my mother was there to pick up the pieces and put me back together. Sure there were tiny fragments missing and the cracks were still visible but I was me again.
My mother and I still kept up our ritual of going out every week for ice cream right up until her demise. It would take our minds off of her illness for just a moment and that moment was everything. We'd still order a strawberry milkshake, she'd still make me laugh, and I'd still spend my money on frivolous toys.
Even though my mind would be off of it for a while,my mind also wandered and I'd start to think about her and her death. I defiantly smiled more than I cried, but I still wailed often.
As I chewed on the tip of my straw I began to think about my mother. It occurred to me throughout all that she had been through I had never seen her cry. Not once, not a single tear. It perplexed me, here was this woman who is going to lose everything she has yet she still has a brave face on.
"What's on your mind". She knew me better than anyone. And was able to read any facial expression, any movement I made and translate it into what I was thinking.
"Why don't you cry mom". She looked at me with puzzled look on her face. When your 11-year-old child asks you such a large question, it probably sets you back a few levels.
" I mean, I've never seen you upset or crying and I'm always crying about it so I don't know why you don't."
She smiled with that smile that could go for miles.
"Well, when one is faced with the circumstances I have been given, one might give up." She looked at the white fan spinning on the ceiling and then looked down at me.
"But I can't do that because I have you"
She said taking her pointer finger and poking me right in the heart. Which caused me to giggle.
" If you constantly sulk and think about how horrible your situation is you'll never make it into a good." She sounded like a philosopher to me, making me stare at her with awe.
"That's what I have done, I took my predicament and turned into a normal affair by spending more time with you."
Taking into consideration I thought about what she had said. It was true when we she first told me that she was sick, the first thing we did was go to the zoo. She ignored her sorrow to rid my own.
"I allow only five seconds of my day to feel sorry for myself, to cry. While you are at school or asleep, that's when I cry. I let it out and cry out my troubles and once the time is up, I wipe my eyes and put in a smile." What she had told me didn't make any sense to me.
"I don't understand" I confided in her.
"I don't expect you too, but the way I see it if you listen to sad songs you"ll sing sad lyrics, If you think about how horrible life is, your life will only be horrible."
Those were the words that stuck with me. Long after her death I repeated those broadening words to myself, though I'm not quite sure that they
reflected into my life
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Hi! So this is a new series I am starting it gets better don't worry Harry will be in it in the third chapter at the latest. Also do you think the cover is too raunchy? Should I change it ? Feedback is always great thanks!
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The Maid
Фанфик"Rule one if I ask you to do something you do it". "Rule two address me only as Sir or Master". "Rule three don't talk back to me" "Rule four you must wear your uniform at all times". "Rule five do not go into my room". I took a sharp breath in,and...
