Aug 03

Growing Old Together

The day has been too long. What day is it even? I have lost track of the days. Has it

been weeks or days? Sitting on the cold, hard floor by the metal bed, I let my heavy eyes take a break from the white lighting and stale environment. The salty tear dripping warmly down my cheek is all I feel, as the rest of my body is numb. The only exception is my brain. Beep. Beep. Beep. I am used to the hum of the medical machines now, considering how long I have been here.

As I beg my mind’s eye to take me back to my youth, the salty tears continue to drip one by one. I see my mother. My beautiful, vibrant mother. My healthy mother. My mom.

“I will always take care of you,” I hear her say to a stand-offish thirteen year old me who took her kiss on the cheek for granted. Oh I wish I could change my reaction now, but it is too late.

While looking at her, I am at a loss of words and truly engulfed in her essence. I squeeze her tight and do not let go of her slightly damp hand. Beep. Beep. Beep.

I force myself to open my eyes. To leave my colorful youth and be transported back to the grey reality. I still feel the touch.

Whose hand am I holding now? Who? Beep. Beep. Beep. My mother’s. Unrecognizably.
“I wish I could have taken care of you.”
 
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Emma Okaty
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