One night in a house not of our own.
As she sang to me,
I closed my eyes and let my mind drift to sleep,
However, my heart lay awake,
Clutching onto the moment, the memory.
How many months have gone by since I have seen her?
I silently ask myself.
“Bright copper kettles, and warm woolen mittens…”
I hum the lullaby with her,
I normally hate this song,
But she was actually here by my side,
The moment made me love it.
“Brown paper packages tied up with string...”
She smelled wonderful, just like I have always know her,
A strong cheap perfume mixed with alcohol and cigarettes.
She brushes my hair off my cheek and I watch her in awe.
I loved how brightly her eyes glowed in the dark.
Tears seep almost unnoticeably from her emerald green eyes.
“ Why is she so sad,” I wonder to myself.
Maybe she dose not like to leave me here either?
“ These are a few of my favorite things…”
I try my hardest to stay awake.
I know that if I fall asleep,
She will leave again.
Water fills my eyes at the thought of her departure.
I hide my face in the curve of her neck and cry deeply,
Her song drowning my sobs.
“Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes…”
Calm now and breathing evenly,
The song is almost over.
I fight to stay awake.
“ Snow Flakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes…”
How long will it be this time,
Two months, three?
“Silver white winters that turn into springs,
These are a few of my favorite things.”
The song is screaming in my ears now,
Teasing me, taunting my emotions to break.
Almost over,
She's almost gone.
I am too tired now, to cry.
My heart is becoming more callused.
“When the dog bites…”
The song can't be over yet,
My heart screeched silently.
I promise myself this time-
If she leaves I will never forgive her.
“When the bee stings…”
If I did not love her so much,
Maybe it would not hurt so badly.
“Is when I am feeling sad…”
She gets up to leave,
Singing her final line.
I resent this lullaby.
I hate this night,
She kisses me briefly on the cheek.
I am half-asleep,
Yet I feel her warm tears fall on my face.
If it were not so often maybe I would fight back.
“I simply remember my favorite things,
And then I don't feel so bad…”
That night,
I watched my mother walk out of my life
It was never the same after that.