Usually, after receiving a letter like I did, one would be comforted to walk into a room full of family members and to be greeted by their mother. However, my mom has been dead for seven years. Or so I believed.
Hesitantly, I headed to the huddle of my household, breathing heavily. I could feel my heartbeat in my throat. As I sat down on the cold, metal chair, I suddenly realized just how cold it actually was. I could see my breath each time my lungs decided to release some air and my fingers were beginning to turn a pale purple and were becoming increasingly more difficult to move. I looked up at my mother, who’s solemn stare felt more and more discomforting the longer I looked. She gave me a quick grin, took a deep breath, clasped her hands together, and began to speak. For the first several words, I couldn’t concentrate on her voice. I could only observe her. Watch how she smiled as she spoke, how she gave such attentive and meaningful eye contact with each of us, and how animated she became, as if she was telling a story to a room full of five year olds. But maybe that’s how she thought of us – A group of grown up kindergartners, falling for every fable she threw our way.
Finally after zoning back into reality, it took me a few moments to realize what she was talking about.
“- a group of strangers. I knew you all once upon a time, but I know all of your lives have been lead down different roads and that I can no longer claim to know any of you. However, I hope that I can rekindle some of our relationships and that you can understand why I did what I did. Especially you, Alicia….”
The moment I heard my name, my thoughts ran rampant through my mind and were once again lost in a jungle of confusion.
To Be Continued…