Why should we cherish the people and things we love, how should we? Do we under appreciate them? How do we show them that they're special? "Remember them, their every little, special detail. You never know what might happen. Keep in mind all of their little quirks and habits. Remember all of the insignificant, easy to forget, details and moments. Remember to love and care for them, always stretching and infinite. You never know what will happen," a lesson that my mom taught me, always flowing through my head these days. This lesson applied to me everyday, through every tough decision I would make, through my every, little movement. And now it stood, er, laid before me again. My mom laid there, un-moving in her hospital bed. I looked down at her. She was barely into her 50's, a sweet, loving woman, she was also short, just breaking five feet, with a stubborn persona, she would always make sure everything was going the right way, until now. She was on the brink of death, and I couldn't do anything about it. It was basically depressing. "I love you," I mumbled, it was one of the few things that I never said to her. My boyfriend, Spencer, popped his head in, after seeing me him came in and sat down. He was a short, pale boy, but very skinny. His hair was a light, brown. He handed me a box wrapped in a Royal Blue paper, my favorite colour. "I hope this helps," he said looking into my eyes, kissing me on the cheek. I carefully unwrapped the paper, and opened the box. Inside was a picture collage of my mom, boyfriend, and I at the park, before she started getting sick. The frame was painted with a deep, rich purple and made of a smooth, sanded wood, laced with a sweet smelling fragrance that I couldn't place. "Thanks," I laid my head on his shoulder, and closed my eyes, reliving that one wonderful day at the park. The weather that day wasn't horrible, but it had been better. It was cool and we all were wearing our winter coats, we sat on a park bench, talking about who knows what, but we were all smiling, watching children climb around on the jungle gym and fly their kites, with their parents watching closely. It is one of my favorite memories, much better than any of my dad, but that's for a later day. I opened my eyes, nothing had changed. The only real thing I wanted. Change. I didn't want my mom to die, nor did I want to even think about it. I thought about how I had treat my mom these past couple of years. The answer was definitely not the best. I had gotten into so many fights with her these past couple of months, none of which really matter. I stared glumly at her face, the heart rate monitor pulsing in the background, the jumps between beats getting weaker everyday. Why did this have to happen to of all people, my mom. She had to much to deal with in her life, she many disasters, and mistakes made. She was,... is... one of the most kind, generous people on this planet. Why her? Why? It is a question I will continue to ask myself through my life.
I sorry to say this, but I think you misunderstood. This hasn't happened to me or anybody else that I meant too. I'm sure its probably happened but, I didn't mean to well, tell their story. Its just a basic story that I wrote in 30 minutes. On another note, thank you for voting yes, its wonderful to hear that somebody wants to consider me continue. I do really appreciate it. Thanks. Do you have any books or stories of your own?
Oh haha xD I thought it was real Very good! Really made me think and feel about the events. I don't really read/write, so nope xD
