It was a boring, cloudy school morning, just like any other. I woke up to my alarm, brushed my teeth, got dressed and went into the kitchen to get a drink. My mom was standing at the counter in her Christmas pajamas - it was April. " Good morning, honey. Did you sleep well?" - she asked with the biggest smile on her face, like always. "Mhm." - I murmured. "Why so grumpy? Did something happen?" " No, mom, I just have a test today." "Well in that case, you're going to love the pancakes I made you." "No, thanks, I...." - I was interrupted by a weird, loud creature - my little brother. "Pancakes? I want pancakes" Please, make me some too!" - he shouted at mom. "Don't worry Liam, yours are right here." - she handed him a plate with two pancakes covered in syrup and he started demolishing them like he hadn't eaten for years. "As I was saying, since I have an important test I'll go to the library and study for a bit." "Okay, honey. Have fun at school and good luck! I love you!" "Love you too, bye!" I could hear the sadness in her voice as she said her goodbyes, but I was too tired to act on it. I was always too tired....
Of course I didn't actually plan on going to the library. It's not like studying ever helped me pass my tests, but clearing my mind did.That's why I took a short walk by the lake. My mom always said that the lake held memories because she grew up swimming in it and so did me and my brother, but I never understood what she meant. To be honest, I never understood half of the things my mom said. She always sounded like she was quoting a line from a poem.
By the time I got to the classroom the bell had already rung and Miss Claver had already given everyone a test. I walked in, but I wasn't stressed since Miss Claver, our math teacher, really liked me regardless of my mostly bad grades. I knew she wouldn't give me a hard time for being a few minutes late. She just handed me the test with a look on her face that said: " You know I'm disappointed, but I'm going to let this pass."
I was only 15 minutes into solving the test when I heard our principal's voice on the speaker: " Victoria Pierce, please report to the principal's office. I repeat, Victoria Pierce, to the principal's office. It's an emergency. "
When I heard it for the first time I thought they wanted to talk to me because they found out I was getting bullied. Well, I don't think "bullying" is the right word, it's more like "getting picked on". The boys from my class just picked someone that they didn't like, found out something bad in that person's life that they couldn't control and bullied, I mean, picked on that person from then on. And I just happened to be that person. I guess, I was the perfect target for them since my dad was absent and I didn't really have many friends. The few colleagues that I did have stopped hanging out with me so they wouldn't be associated with the "weird" kid. I didn't tell my mum about it since she was already upset enough with our dad leaving and I didn't want to upset her even more.
I wish they called me for that reason. In that case I would have just told them I was fine, the boys would have to clean the cafeteria for a week and everyone would forget everything in the span of two weeks. But that's not what happened. What happened is way worse.
I quickly shoved my stationary in my old, black backpack and left the classroom with my heart pounding in my chest. I took one last look around - I saw scared, confused faces all over the room. My unfinished test way lying on the desk, like it was waiting to be solved. Unfortunately, it never got the chance to be.
I finally got to the principal's office after a few minutes of walking the halls (which felt like an eternity), I knocked on the door. The person who opened the door was our school's psychologist. While she looked calm, everyone else in the room looked shocked and worried. But that was not anything unusual. Miss Owens always looked calm. It usually worked well with students who were stressed or upset. Seeing how calm she was helped them be calm too. But that wouldn't work on me, especially when I looked around the room and saw Liam. " What happened? Why did you call us here? We did nothing wrong. " - I shouted. Nobody answered, so I turned to Liam. " Did something happen? Are you okay? - I asked him with both my hands on his shoulders while staring in his teary green eyes. " I ... don't know ... They brought me here... told me to wait for you..." - he cried out. I turned to the principal. " He's only 9. Why would you bring him here and not even tell him what's going on?!" - I shouted, not because I was mad, but because I was scared. I knew it in my bones that all those scared faces had to mean something, and very soon I found out I was right.
Miss Owens sat us both down on the couch and sat in the chair in front of us. "This is going to be a lot to take in. I'm sorry that I have to be the one to tell you this, but it is what it is." In that moment, for the first time in my life, after so many years of talking to her, I saw worry on Miss Owens' face. That's how I knew something bad had happened. Something that couldn't be fixed. "Your mother got into a car accident this morning on her way to work. She is in the hospital now but heavily injured. "I felt my eyes fill with tears as I looked down at my dirty, red converse. "But that can't be true! She drove me here only an hour ago!" - I heard Liam cry out next to me. "I'm sorry." - said Miss Owens.
My mum passed away almost immediately after she got to the hospital. The last thing I can remember after me and Liam got there is a nurse gently pulling me to the side and telling me something. I don't remember her words or what happened after. I read somewhere that our brain erases painful memories so we won't suffer. But I suffered. I suffered more than I could ever imagine.
It's been two years since my mom's passing. I'll turn 16 in a month. Me and Liam had no one to take us in so we entered foster care. We have been placed in many different families, but at last we were placed with a nice family. They will soon finish the adoption process and we're so grateful to finally have a permanent place. Despite all the loving people I'm surrounded with, I don't think I will ever call them mom or dad or their place my home. My home is the the home I grew up in with my mom and the lake. The lake I was always so confused about. The lake I now consider part of my home. We decided to spread my mom's ashes there, so now it holds an even deeper memory.
Now I actually understand what she meant. In fact, I understood her so well that I started writing my own poems. My favorite theme to write about is life. How beautiful it can be, but also vulnerable. We should cherish it, cherish the love we have, while we still can. Because our next breath is never guaranteed and so isn't the breath of our loved ones.
Now, I write and publish my poems. I want to remind people to live life to the fullest while they can. Knowing that my poems might make someone feel better about their loss or feel more grateful of what they have, is the biggest reward I can imagine.