a mother's love

it was dark outside, but i'm not sure what time it was. my dad wasn't home from work yet, so it couldn't have been too terribly late. i don't even remember if it was cold outside, but sometimes even the winters in texas are pretty warm. mom was upset at my dad. she was very upset. she was pacing around the kitchen, talking to herself and crying. i sat on the couch with the television on, pretending not to notice her. i was about 9 years old.

at last, mom had worked herself up into enough of a frenzy to take action. she came into the living room with a small bag in one hand, her purse in another. she had stopped crying, but her face was still tear-streaked and red. i stood up. she told me that she couldn't stay here, that she had to get away. she told me to tell dad that she went to a motel for the night. she told me that dad would be home soon and i would be okay until then. i just stared and nodded. i watched out the window as the taillights of her car faded out of sight.

i felt a little anxious. it was nighttime and we lived in the middle of nowhere. what if that murderer from the friday the 13th movies was real and came to kill me? i was still standing in the middle of the living room, not sure what to do. i wasn't looking forward to telling my dad that my mom had left. i didn't even know what she was mad about. something caught my eye and i looked out the window. i was relieved to see headlights instead of a killer in a hockey mask. dad. i had to tell dad. but the person who came through the door was not dad - it was mom. she ran to me, crying again, and hugged me tightly. she kept saying over and over that she couldn't leave her baby all alone. but hadn't she? didn't she leave me a long time ago? i know that's why her hugs don't feel warm.

i don't even know how much time had passed. another set of headlights illuminated the driveway. this time it had to be dad. i looked up at mom. she was still crying. she told me i had better go to my room. i didn't mind because my room was always warm.