My Life With My Mother Essays

775 Words Nov 6th, 2015 4 Pages
I was six years old. I was a spitting image of my mother. My mother was in and out of the hospital and too young to fully understand how sick she had become, but I enjoyed spending every minute with her while she stayed in the hospital. I asked my father when she was coming home. I laid in bed that night with a lump in my throat, heavy heart, but no tears in my eyes wondering when my mother gets to come home. I remember I couldn’t sleep, I walked to my brother’s room a stood there wanting to wake him, but I couldn’t. I stood there as if something was weighing me down. I thought I was screaming, but my brother was still sound asleep. I finally busted out with a loud uncontrollable scream with tears falling. My brother jumped out the bed to grab me as he did I could feel my body giving out. My brother shook me and shook me asking me “what’s wrong, please Alice tell me what’s wrong?” I will never forget saying I don’t think mommy is coming home to us. It’s not fair I want my mommy. Two days had passed since I last seen my mother at the hospital. I begged my father to let me go spend time with her. He agreed and took me and my brothers and sisters to see her that evening. I remember rushing in front of everyone to be the first one to the door. Her door was already open and I ran to the hospital bed as fast I could. Overcome with joy and very anxious to touch her. My mother’s smile was big, but her eyes were low, her hair very wild and her hug was soft which was not normal.…

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