Creative Writing: Serenity Essay

Closing my eyes, I concentrated on regulating my breathing and used the edge of my bed to pull myself up off the floor. I slowly walked over to the door, unlocked it, and stood face to face with my mom. She craned her neck to look into my room.

“Momma, I just want to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry you're going through this. I’m sorry daddy left. I’m sorry you weren’t able to fulfill your dreams. I’m sorry for not saying sorry sooner and that I love you. Regardless of what you did to me, I forgive you. I pray you can forgive me also.” She kissed her mother on the forehead and gave her a warm, tight hug she only dreamed of. She grabbed her hands. “I won’t allow you to suffer.”

September 27th 2009. I was on my dad’s weekend and my mom was in the hospital for a weeks. I would visit her every day and sometimes bring her flowers. But on september 27th I woke up and walked into my living room and my dad was sitting on the couch looking sad. I asked what was wrong and then a knock was heard on the door it was my step dad and half brother. My step dad had puffy eyes he was crying. He told me to sit down and my brother came out and sat next to me. My dad looked at us and he spoke up your mother had just passed this morning. I was shocked I was hurt I was scared.I didn’t know if i should cry or run away. I’ve learned that losing someone you love is tough.

I sat on my bed with my arms wrapped tightly around my pillow swaying back and forth. My mom lightly knocked on my door and asked if she could come in. I tried to wipe away the stains left by my long stream of tears, but I felt my skin sting and eyes swell instead. She asked if I wanted to talk about it, but my response got stuck in my throat, so all I could do was shake my head and shove my head deep inside my pillow. Her bare feet smacked on the concrete as she made her way over to my bed. Her weight made an indent in the corner of my mattress as she sat down and laid a hand on my back.

When I was living with my mom, things were really hard. We have been homeless, living from paycheck to paycheck, and even depending off the government to keep us alive. My mother made a lot of mistakes that taught me what not to do. She was abusive, alcoholic, irresponsible

“Your mother and I are getting divorced. This does not change how much we each love the two of you. Things around here will be changing but our love for you both does not.” Immediately after I heard those first seven words, I ran down the hallway to my room and slammed the door behind me. I had no idea how the two people I loved

My mother’s letter also provided me with a heartfelt, long lasting goodbye. My mother returned after only a week, however, with this note, I was left with the words of love that my mother wrote on paper for me. I come from a tight knit family, so for my mother to

Although I hated to see her go, I knew that I would never branch out and meet new people with my mother present. As we said goodbye, the tears swelled up in her eyes and it seemed like the harder she tried to prevent the tears from falling; the faster they streamed down her cheek. Eventually my mom got back into her car and began the long trip home. There I was, alone in the middle of the street outside of my dorm. I walked back into Cowden, up the flight of stairs and into my dorm room in a trance.

I envisioned my mom, always berating my sisters and me, always telling us, 'why couldn't we act as polite and friendly like her friends' children, be as talkative and successful like their kids. I recalled dreading going to any of her friends' house, it always leads to a lecture about 'why didn't we act this way", or smile, or do

I looked back onto the house as if it were a museum, an artifact- perfectly tact cleaned as I remembered back when I was four years old finding a yellow hot wheel sport car on a window seal remembering the hallways much grander and much larger than they were now. When I rubbed my hand against that seal, I expected dust from years of a messy bedroom lived in by twins with too many stuffed animals. There was none. There was none like that matchbox car lost underneath my bed. My mom wiped it down before the endless showings to people who never cared.

He knew he was being harsh, and he instantly regretted every word when Ian let go of his wrists, and the saw the look of pure hurt cross his face. At this point he needed to hold the fragile boy in his arms, he needed to make that look go away, he was honestly desperate to see anything but what he was seeing

I walk up the stairs and down the hall into her room. It smells like alcohol and here and there are beer bottles all over the floor. I walk into the bathroom that 's connected to the room to find my mom kneeling over a toilet bowl, hurling. She still has a hold of a beer bottle.

My mother mourns privately and I join her for the first time in a long time, longing for things to have been different. I find myself desperately seeking the warmth and comfort I’ve always found in my family. I find myself desperately seeking the warmth and comfort I’ve always found in my true family. The family that has always been there and shown support. I no longer see the heavy, sleek-cut stone as ancient memories rush into my now-clouded vision. I’m not going to forget you or leave you. I’ll be loyal to you and your memory. I don’t want to be like him.

I had always assumed that being my Mom meant you would be with me forever. When you received your diagnosis of cancer, I was heartbroken. I suddenly realized that I could lose you. I know you were not scared of dying, but the idea paralyzed me. I could not imagine my life without you. Loneliness came over me as I dealt with our new fate. I watched as your body succumb to the evil face of cancer. Your chestnut hair, sapphire eyes, and a smile that could win the hearts of the world started to wither. Your strength and

I painted a smile on my face and grabbed the basket full of pastel orange petals. I looked down at my dress again, remembering the last time I had worn it, my mom was with me and my family was there. Part of me wished she was here with me, even though I knew she couldn’t be for many complicated reasons