Pieces of me

A Girl And Her Mother

There I was, twenty one years old and having to clean out my late mothers home. I couldn't even put the key in the lock I was so stressed out and I hadn't even stepped inside. My plan was to take over my mothers house when she passed but it happened quicker than expected and I really just couldn't even stand being here. 

The West Chester air blew cold as it was spring and just starting to warm up again. I unlocked the door and stepped inside. The familiar scent of cigarette smoke filled the home. I set down my keys and phone on the kitchen counter and sighed stepping into the living room. The house was like a time capsule of everything I had left here as a child. Photos of my older brother and young me as he left for the military, two pairs of my old shoes thrown at the back door, a sweatshirt of mine hung over a dining room chair. 

This had been reality for my mother all of these years. When she told me we were moving to Detroit, I thought she meant me and her, the both of us, like it had always been. I was very much wrong about that. She meant me. My mother had gotten cps called on her before in the past but this time they had decided to act. She tried to be a good mom, but she valued her coke and alcohol over me. Going without food so she could fuel her addiction must have been noticeable to my teachers. I always assumed one of them called since my English teacher constantly checked in on me. 

Once I turned eighteen, I had been in a group home working until I would be able to get my own place but unfortunately, I got the call. I knew my mother didn't have much longer to live considering her days started with alcohol and ended with cocaine. I tried to forget and move on but having to come back to go through her house is the hardest thing I have had to do yet. 

My old room was still painted light pink as if a child were still living here. She babied me when I lived here and I had always hated it. I looked at the pictures frames on the walls and scanned over my old high school wardrobe with disgust. The trailer park that my mom and I lived in was just down the road from the nicest neighborhood in town. Man, I wish I could have lived there. Bam did. Wait, Brandon lives there...

I cant just approach his house now in distress. I would look like an absolute mess. I brushed the thought back and rolled my eyes thinking about how stupid I sound. He probably didn't even live around here anymore. I turned to walk back to the kitchen as my phone rang. It was of course my brother. Cash was able to get out of the military for five seconds to come to moms funeral in a week and wanted to know where he could stay. Even though my brother is almost a whole seven years older than me, he really acted like he was much younger than me. After I had hung up telling him that I was staying at moms house I took one last look before closing the door and locking it again. 

I walked over to the garage seeing the side door hadn't been fully shut. Praying that nobody was hiding out in there and plotting to murder me, I opened the door seeing moms car. I let out a sigh and looked off to the side seeing my old purple skateboard with the big sticker on the bottom that said "BAM". I picked it up looking it over and laughed rolling my eyes. Brandon really thought he was going to be a pro skater someday. Novak had laughed when he started to make decals for everyones boards at the park. I was the only one to immediately stick mine on. Why did I? I have no clue but it made him smile. 

I took the board putting it in my car and drove off towards the old skate park. I felt like I had to go now. I hadn't skated in years and this was honestly the worst idea I had had in awhile considering I was rusty at the sport. I parked in the spot we always use to park and let out a short sigh watching as all of the kids at the park skated. I contemplated what I was doing for awhile until I grabbed the board and took a step out of my car. something about being there at that moment was exhilarating.