The vibrant colours of the sky, which now held a setting sun, met my eyes as they reluctantly fluttered open. The blend of colours all joined together, forming a throbbing pain that pulsed through my head. A single memory took over my vision and I was back to my nine year old hopeful self.
I instinctively raised my head to the sunset that stretched across the sky. This was my favorite time of the day, when I could let peace cradle me in its loving arms. My heavenly daze was shattered by the sound of a screeching car zooming past my little hideout. I flew up from my position and fled to the opening to see what was going on. The most we could hear in our secluded neighbourhood was a bird rustling in the trees, building its own home in the form of a nest. I looked to the right and saw a familiar car disappear around the corner. Hmmm…. It’s my mother’s car. I sighed in defeat. Each time she leaves, she takes a small piece of my heart. Each time she comes back from a sudden trip, she promises to never leave us again. And each time, she breaks that promise, defusing the tiny flame of hope in the pit of my stomach.
A week later, and I am sitting by the front door, waiting for it to break of its hinges, because that’s how my mother always comes back.
Another week goes by, and I stand in the kitchen, waiting for the sound of a crack to take over my hearing.
Three weeks since she left, and I lean on the rail of the staircase, waiting for a headlight to flood the street outside.
A month has passed, and I am waiting in my room, for the sound of footsteps up the stairs.
Five weeks later, and I know she is not coming back.