I looked out the car window, and stared down at the moving pavement below. I thought hard about the last time my mom and I had visited our house in California. Even though the shutters had been painted bright green, the walkway was crumbling, and the grass was probably up to my second story window, I still couldn't process any other feeling but love toward the house. However, my mom seems to feel different about the house then I do. As far as I know, the house reminds her of my dead father, who, so I've heard, was a real jerk. The only reason she decided to trek back to this house with me was because I was turning eighteenth, and my only wish was to come here on my birthday. For years I've been traveling with my mom to almost every place you could possibly imagine. Hawaii, Alaska, Germany, Saudi Arabia, China, anywhere. Well, except for Italy, which I have been dying to go to even when I was a little girl. As I see it, my mom expresses herself by traveling, and thats what she has been doing ever since I was 3 years old.
When I think about it, I've done almost everything with my childish, loving mom. I looked over at her, her eyes consentrated on the road. We have traveled the world, but she is still the worst and the most cautious driver I've ever seen.
My thoughts stopped right in their tracks when I heard her phone buzz. My mom reached slowly down to her pocket and pulled out her phone. Even though the world is whirling with technology she still has her chunky white phone that was probably used in the later years of Saved By the Bell.
"Hello?" my mom had answered in a shaky and somewhat angry voice. Probably because whoever was on the line had disturbed her consentration on the road.
"Hey Tina," the voice said on the opposite line. I knew this voice. It was Patrick, someone my mom has known since high school, and has always lived in an apartment a few blocks away from our house. I've always guessed they were highschool sweethearts back then, but my mom denys everything, and gets agitated ever time I tease her about it.
"Patrick, what do you need now?" my mom answered, sounding so paranoid.
"I need to know how many cups of flour you're supposed to put in chocolate chip cookies," he said.
"Since when do you bake?" my mom asked confused.
"I don't, but my niece is coming over today," he explained.
"Why can't you look on the back of a bag of chocolate chips?" she grumbled.
We heard shuffling over the phone. "Oh," he said. "well I guess I'll talk to you later then, what are you up to anyways?"
"I'm driving." she said stubbornly.
"Oh, maybe it was a bad time to call," then the line went dead. Patrick knew my mom so well.
I looked up at my mom smiling, and she glared down at me, "May, don't you look at me that way, I told you there is nothing between him and I."
"Sure, whatever you say," I muttered, and shook my head, "how much longer, anyways?"
"About ten minutes." she responded.
"Good, not long at all." I smiled.
My mom smiled back at me. "May, are you excited to see our house again?" she said slyly.
I just smiled up at her.
The next ten minutes in the car felt long. Though, I began to see things that looked familiar, and I was suddenly filled with newfound joy that I was actually going home. It'll bring back so many memories.
I suddenly heard breaks screeching and the wailing of people in distress and fear.
"May!!" my mother screamed my name pointing and looking out my window.
I turned to see a truck plowing down the middle of the road, heading right for me.
Before I could even gasp, and realized what was going to happen, the truck came to me. It slammed right into my door, practically on top of me.
The pain was unbearable. I couldn't move my legs, and I began to feel warm liquid slowly make it's way down my face, but I was sure wasn't sweat. This could be only the pain of death. I heard screams coming from my mom. "My May! Somebody help!"
I wanted to comfort her, and tell her it was okay. I wanted to say that under the pain I felt a calming and peaceful feeling. The peaceful feeling became a dreamy and foggy land that I was slipping into. The pain went away. Everything went black.
And then I knew, I must be dead.
Make sure to tell me what you think!!!
God Bless <3
- Title: Memories of May
- Artist: CLOSEDACCOUNT_GHOST
- Description: I wrote this in 2008, but I edited it and hopefully managed to improve the quality of my writing. This is sort of displaying my weak writing, but I still hope everyone can enjoy it in there own manner.
- Date: 01/02/2011
- Tags: memories
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