It’s been four years since my unfortunate day, well sort of unfortunate. It was the day that I met my spouse. Now, four years can really change a person. Let’s see, I got married, had two lovely children, moved to Chicago, and started a successful business branch that supports young, talented geniuses. I considered myself the luckiest woman in the world. My children, a daughter and a son, are the best I could ask for. My son, Noah Jackson, who is twelve, is average in the required classes but he exceeds in art. My daughter, Ava Jackson, who is fourteen, is astute in math and reading. According to her teachers, she could be an accountant or lawyer. The only thing is that they’re both derogatory at times, like most children. Everything was perfect,
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A young girl with straight light brown hair, fair skin, and tears in her light brown eyes. Behind her was a teenage male with the same features sitting in a seat staring at me with a look of concern, then there was an adult man with a stressed expression. They all crowded around me, the silent room suddenly was filled with questions of concern. “I’m sorry, who are you?” I asked, immediately regretting that. The authentic sadness on their expressions really pained me. The doctor spoke, “I see,” he wrote some words on a clipboard, “As I expected, that much trauma can cause amnesia.” The adult man suddenly looked toward me, “What year is it?” I responded, “It’s 2010.” The doctor spoke, “At this rate, I assume she might get her memories back in three years, unless you assist her.” The adult man nodded, “Thank you.”
After doctor left the room the young girl spoke, “Do you know who I am?” I felt guilty saying, “No, not really.” The girl frowned, “I’m Ava Jackson, your clever daughter.” I laughed, “Yes, and I am a bird with beautiful plumage that slaughters bears.” They looked at me, “Oh, you’re serious.” My jaw dropped, “What year is it?” The boy that was quiet this whole time spoke, “It is 2017, and I’m your son, Noah.” I looked at the adult male with blond hair, “You are?” He spoke, “I’m Elliot
A young girl with straight light brown hair, fair skin, and tears in her light brown eyes. Behind her was a teenage male with the same features sitting in a seat staring at me with a look of concern, then there was an adult man with a stressed expression. They all crowded around me, the silent room suddenly was filled with questions of concern. “I’m sorry, who are you?” I asked, immediately regretting that. The authentic sadness on their expressions really pained me. The doctor spoke, “I see,” he wrote some words on a clipboard, “As I expected, that much trauma can cause amnesia.” The adult man suddenly looked toward me, “What year is it?” I responded, “It’s 2010.” The doctor spoke, “At this rate, I assume she might get her memories back in three years, unless you assist her.” The adult man nodded, “Thank you.”
After doctor left the room the young girl spoke, “Do you know who I am?” I felt guilty saying, “No, not really.” The girl frowned, “I’m Ava Jackson, your clever daughter.” I laughed, “Yes, and I am a bird with beautiful plumage that slaughters bears.” They looked at me, “Oh, you’re serious.” My jaw dropped, “What year is it?” The boy that was quiet this whole time spoke, “It is 2017, and I’m your son, Noah.” I looked at the adult male with blond hair, “You are?” He spoke, “I’m Elliot