A thick layer of blonde strands cover the top of Sarah's pillow. As winter creeps, my children are growing, but unfortunately, Sarah's blonde straight hair is doing the exact opposite of growing. It seems like every day more just keeps disappearing. She asks me every time she pulls out a chunk, "Mommy, look! My bootiful hair is goin' way!"
What am I supposed to do in those situations? "Baby," I'd begin, "Sometimes we have to lose certain things to get better. You want your lungs to get better don't you?"
"Well, yah."
"Then you'll have to sacrifice your hair. Don't worry, it'll grow back. In my opinion, you're still the most beautiful girl I've ever seen!"
On top of seeing my daughter's heart break every time she grows a new bald spot, I haven't heard from Noah in a week. What the hell is he doing? I sit and ponder with that thought as I sway Rocky in my arms as he breathes heavily and lightly plays with my hair. It's not until little Sarah comes and tugs my shirt, that I get out of my trance.
Tears fill her eyes, "I just wan' go play. I hate my lungs! I hate 'em!" I lay my unconscious boy on the couch, and then sit in the floor to give a loving hand to the broken baby.
"Shh," I comfort, "You wanna go play? We'll go play."
She wipes her face, "Really?"
"Go get your shoes on."
She runs out of the living room.
I haven't taken the kids to this park in months. After a while, I just didn't have time to take them anymore. A part of me wonders if that's an excuse or if I actually was busy. I carefully watch my kids as one of them swirls down the slide and the other sits and plays with sand. The few people jogging on the sidewalk circled around the part seem to be too concentrated on the tortures of their burning thighs, than embracing the beautiful chilly air and the lovely sound of children's laughter. I feel so bad for the only kid that doesn't have a jacket on in a day like this. From the color of his skin, I can tell who his mother is. They are the only African American people at this park. My heart saddens. She looks cold herself. Her hair looks matted and she looks like she hasn't slept in days. I feel like I can relate to this woman. I'm a single mother who is tight on money, but will go through anything just to make my babies smile.
I have sixty dollars on me right now. I could at least give her half. That's enough to buy two jackets, right? I walk up and take a seat behind her.
"I'm Bonnie. Your son is adorable." I speak sweetly.
"How'd you know that's my son?" Her humor is charming and warm.
I take thirty out of my purse, "Go buy yourselves a jacket. It's getting cold."
"Don't take no money from nobody, darlin' Thank ya though."
"Please, I insist."
She sighs, "I gotta pay you back,"
"You don't"
"Only reason I'm taking it is for the boy."
"I know."
She smiles and grants a thank you. Happiness fills my insides. It feels sweet, kind of like a warm honeysuckle.
YOU ARE READING
The Monster in My Veins
ChickLit{COMPLETED} {MATURE CONTENT} When a dysfunctional family begins to go through unfortunate trials, the only way they can look is down. With a father addicted to heroin and a mother addicted to her coworker, they don't think their family life coul...
