Hey, writer and readers! Welcome or welcome back to Words! Today’s post is a snippet from my book, What Matters Most, that I plan to self publish later this year. I hope you enjoy!
I’m still not sure what love is, even though I’ve lived with my mom in New York City for years; why would Oklahoma be any better? The same sister who didn’t care in the Big Apple isn’t about to care in her fancy house in Oklahoma, will she? The mom who seemed to care so much even when she was busy doesn’t want me gone now, does she? I don’t have any answers. But as I stare at my room in the first apartment in the United States I ever lived in, I do have memories, both in the room and in the city.
This is where I first spoke English, where I learned what the United States meant.
This is where I broke my first bone, where I lost my baby teeth, where I started dance, where I met Chloe and Belle and Emma, where I became a citizen of my country.
This is where Chloe taught me how to sneak out without my mom knowing, where Liam first said he liked me, where Liam first hugged me goodnight, where Liam and Chloe and Belle and Emma all said goodbye, angry that I would leave them for middle-of-pathetic Moore, Oklahoma.
This is where we first smiled at a U.S. sunset, where my dad left, and where my sister fled.
And now Mama is making me leave. I don’t understand, and maybe I never will. I sigh deeply as I gaze around the room, the moonlight and the lights of the city shining through my small window to illuminate my whole life thus far: my dresser, where all my fashion dreams live. My desk, where my art is randomly splayed across the top. My closet, filled with my books and more clothes and a trunk full of childhood memories.
Tears creep down my cheeks, angry and afraid and… relieved. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to see Bianca, my sister that ran away. But maybe… maybe I do want a new start. Maybe I do want to heal. Maybe… maybe this is my chance.
I close my eyes, allowing the tears to flow from my heart onto my worn quilt as I snuggle deeper into the blankets. Freedom. Wasn’t that what Mama wanted, all those years ago?
Maybe now I know what she felt. Maybe now I understand, even though I’m angry.
Funny how the more I get mad at her, the more I see her in the mirror. Funny how our stories cross. Funny how she’s ready to give up a part of herself… even if the part of herself isn’t ready to leave.
Delirium sets in, filling my mind with memories mixed with dreams.
Goodnight, New York City. Goodnight, childhood. Goodnight, world. Goodnight, future. I’ll face you tomorrow.
Sorry to keep today’s post so short, but let me know what you think! Did you like it? Do you have any questions or comments on the passage? Do you want to see more? Let me know in the comments!