The sound of quacking ducks not far away awakened me. As my eyelids slowly opened and my senses became clearer I realized I had fallen asleep again. I grabbed my art supplies and wrapped them into the quilt my grandmother knit me when I was a baby and started running home. The sunset on the horizon was a beautiful pink and orange as the sun took its final minutes in the sky. On the sidewalk I dropped my favorite paint brush and stopped to grab it. As I bent over to reach it a yellow taxi cab drove by splashing me with this morning's rain. I grunted and stood up starting to run again. I knew my mom was already setting the table with dinner, I had about three minutes to get home or I would be in trouble. My mother always said that I was terrible at keeping time and one of these days I was going to get into trouble. I rounded the corner and ran up the stairs to the hotel. I passed the bell hop and smiled, "Hey Bert" I called running to the elevator.
"Afternoon Miss Rosie, one minute and fifteen seconds," Bert giving me how much time I had left as he tipped his hat.
I thanked him as the elevator opened and waited until we reached the ninth floor. I ran through the hall to room 415 where my mother and I lived. I opened the door and the warm smell of garlic bread burst out of the room into the hall. I dropped my things in my room on my way to the dining room where my mom was just sitting down. Looking at the clock my mom said, " Thirteen seconds late."
I sat down and took a big gulp of water from the glass in front of my plate.
"Beat my time by ten seconds," I breathed catching my breath.
"Still late." My mom muttered as she stuffed a fork full of spaghetti in her mouth.
"Why is your back wet?" My mom asked.
"Cab splashed me." I answered.
After a few minutes of silence I looked up to her, "You'll never guess what I got to paint today, it was incredible. I was sitting under Meryl and this Monarch Butterfly flies up to me and lands on my knee. It sat there long enough for me to paint him. It was like he wanted me to paint that picture." I speculated.
"Wonderful dear, finish up." My mom disregarded me.
I picked up the ceramic plate and put it into the dish washer. Ever since dad died, mom seemed to be off in another world. She never quite seem to hear what you were saying. I could basically get away with murder because she didn't pay attention to anything. Not that I would commit murder but I have yet to be punished for returning home late every day. Anytime someone would say anything that would be close to the topic of dad she would change the subject or leave the room.
A few months after dad died we lost our house and had to move. My mom had to get a job and the only one she could find was at a hotel called Four Seasons. The owner of the hotel allowed us to move into one of the suite's that was never used. My mom's job is the night chef. She is the chef that works night for late night eaters. Her dream was always to become a head chef or own her own restaurant but she never went after that dream. I know she still thinks about it but she says nothing about it.
I went to my room. As soon as I opened the door I saw my plain white walls and queen size bed with the fancy comforter. The bed was made and there was nothing on the floor because I have not been in my room since the maid cleaned. Shirley is the maid and she knows that the only thing I want her to touch is the bed and clothes on the floor. In the far end of the room is an old mahogany desk that used to be my dad's. All over it was art supplies with painted pictures and blank papers mixed together. I love all kinds of art but my favorite is to paint. I love to go to the park under my tree and sit and watch everything and paint it. My favorite painting that I have made is in a frame above the desk. It is of my dad as I remember him.
