Hanah and I had gone to the Minnehaha Grill and eaten our usual fare but only because we both knew how bad I would feel the next morning if we did not.
We pretty much had the drinking ritual down to a science. I know what you’re thinking…not good. And maybe you’re right.
But oh, we are still so young.
I sighed and flipped the notebook back on the night stand.
“I miss you mom,” I whispered and closed my eyes but not tight enough to stop hot tears from running down my cheeks. I reached up to grab a Kleenex. When will this horrible pain go away?
Last year, after many half-hearted attempts, I had finally decided to get my own apartment. I had lived at home while going to the University of Minnesota to save money. And did I mention that my mom was also my best friend?
I think she was just as excited as I was and we had been looking around for places in the Hawthorne area of Minneapolis which is the neighborhood where I live now, where in fact I had been born.
I wanted to get an apartment close by so I would be able to walk to the same shops and restaurants that I do now. Or even walk to mom’s if I wanted. Why venture too far away from the nest, right?
But then she died and I simply could not move. Dad had died when I was 7 and even though I only had vague memories of him, they were all connected to this house. I see a man raking leaves or shoveling snow or walking up the back steps. A quick puff of memory and then it’s gone.
My mom had been a passionate gardener and the yard and boulevard are filled with trees, bushes and flowers that she raised from little sprouts…just like me.
No. I wasn’t moving. Not for a long time. Maybe not ever. Who knows?