The Art Of Staying Sane

Chapter One: Buckets

I snarled and wrote furiously in my notebook, thinking about what I'd just been told.

My 'mom' sat me down, kissing my forehead. Then she settled on a seat across from me.

" Honey, To not beat around the bush,"she said, being she wasn't one for dilly dally," You were adopted."

My eyes bugged out. I gasped and felt lightheaded. She sighed." Your actual family- y-you can't go live with them."

I took in a gasping breath." Why?" I whispered, almost to myself.

She pursed her lips and pulled out a piece of paper for me to read. "You'd best read this in your room," she advised.

I thomped down the hall to my room, and that's when I started to furiously write in my notebook. I was writing down what was on the paper.

This is what I wrote:

Arnold Scnaald-Died in Asylum, aged 26.

Scarlett Smiths-Died in Asylum, aged 31

Charles Smiths-Died in Asylum, aged 28

Charles Smiths Jr.-Died in Asylum, aged 34

Sandra Collins-Died escaping Asylum, aged 32

Harriet Dent-Died in Asylum, aged 29

Kyle Dent- Died in Asylum, aged 31

Maria Hurde-Died in Asylum, aged 24

The last one was circled and underneath it someone had written,"your mother,"

Looking at the list, I realized something: No one had lived past forty in my family. Fifteen is middle aged. Life suddenly seemed more important, taken for granted.

I swallowed. My life suddenly felt wasted so far. I had done nothing with it so far. If I die in a decade, I want to feel ready for it, I thought to myself.

Then, because I am one for quick decisions, I pulled out my suitcase, throwing my clothes in it. I packed everything important to me.

Then, realizing I couldn't leave immediately, I slumped and took a breath, blowing my dark hair out of my eyes.

After collecting my wandering thoughts, I stood up. I pushed my luggage under my bed, covering it with my long sheets.

I turned back to my desk and the notebook. I turned the page over and titled the page something I thought I wouldn't need to write until my late fifties: My bucket list.

My bucket list

1:Travel the US in a large car and everytime you stop, pick up another person to join you.

2:Dance in the rain

3:Skinny dip in the dark

4: Get drunk and wake up regretting it

5:Kiss someone

6:Fall in love

7:Tell someone all your secrets, and keep theirs

8:Live

9:Be different

I set down my pen and sighed. Where to begin?

I decided to start by telling the woman I had thought was my mother.

"Mom?" I called, sticking my head out of my bedroom door." Could you come here?"

She smiled, hope evident in her eyes. After she entered, I slouched on my soft bed.

" I'm leaving," I whispered.
She nodded." I would too," she whispered back.

We sat there together, fake mother and fake daughter, enjoying the silence that fell. It was comfortable, inviting the both of us with warm, welcome arms. We sat together, and it seemed we understood one another for once, even if never again.