“Mom. What are you doing here?”
“Well, your father and I are here to take you home,” my mother responds.
“How did you find me? You don’t even have my number.” I reply.
“There was a young lady that I accidently bumped into at the grocery store last week. She offered to help pick up some of the things I dropped, and we got to talking. I found out that I knew her mother and told her about my daughter that I have not seen in a few years. Once I said your name and described who you were, she told me that she use to work with you. Then she start to tell me some things that were going on with you.” I start to feel angry, because I told my co-worker those things in private, not to get help from anyone.
“Mom, those were private conversations, not to be blasted to the whole community.”
“Susan, I am your mother. She only told your mother. A mother that cares about you and your children. It took me a whole week to bring myself into going to look for you knowing that you have been this close to us all this time. Your father and I drove to this man’s house looking for you just to find out he put you and my grandkids out the house. So I called your co-worker to ask where she thought you could be, and she gave me this address. Now you are here. At a women’s shelter. You need to come home. Now.” To see my mother’s reaction to my situation, and her willingness to come find me soften my heart, and the anger was starting to turn to tears. I walk over to my mother and hug her with tears rolling down my face.
“I know I need to come home,” I whisper in her ear.
My mother follow me into the building as I walk toward my spot to grab my children and our things. I calmly tell my children that the woman with me is their grandmother. I can see the excitement in Nyla’s eyes, and the boys immediately went to hug her. We walk toward my father’s truck, and tried not to make eye contact with him. I could sense his disappointment, but I knew my father was relieved to see me again. The ride to their house was silent, but all I could hear was the messages of failure and disappointment going back and forth in my head. I did not ask how long I was staying because my parents cared more about my stability than my own will. As we pull in the yard, I got my self together to embrace a new reality: Moving back home with three children and no job.
“John, can you take the children to the kitchen to get a snack? Susan and I will get her things out the car,” my mother states.
After we finish unloading the car, my mother and I went to the living room to sit. Ten minutes of awkward silence went by until I muster the nerves to speak.
“Mom, I am sorry.” She look up from her glasses, and pull them off.
“Susan Denise Myers, there is nothing for you to be sorry about.”
“But, Mom, you do not understand..” My mother stops me and put her hands on top of mine.
“I do not have to understand. All I see is a woman that is trying to do the best she can for her kids. She made a mistake, and tried to do her best to change things.”
“Mom, thank you for finding me. Life just been so hard these last few years. I did not know if I was going to find my way back. I want to do better and have more, but I feel like a complete failure.“
“What did you fail at? Not being human. Honey, we all make mistakes. I did not care what you go yourself into. I only wanted you to come to me when you got in trouble.”
“I did not think you will come for me. I was hoping that Corey would or even Nyla’s father, but those men never cared about me. I just can’t thank you enough.”
“You are welcome, honey. I want to show you something.” My mother led me to the basement downstairs.
“This may not be the biggest place, but it is livable. Your father and I finally found the time to refinish this basement. We intended for this to be your place after you finished college just to give you a head start to save your money when you found your first professional job. I understand that it did not come to that, but it is still available for you. I will go check on the children, and you make yourself home, ” my mother said as she walk back up the stairs.
I am wondering is this another chance for me to get it right, or will it end like it did before. The basement apartment does not look bad at all, and it is like having my own place. I feel that God allowed my co-worker to meet my mom and tell her I was in trouble. If that did not happen, I will be at the shelter tonight. I take my high school graduation picture out of my pocket. The only thing I want to ask the girl in the picture is: Can I start over?
I finally got the finale out for this story…..(schoolwork was a little heavy this past weekend). The purpose of writing this story is to give an idea of what it means to have your dreams “stop” and face with the decision to starting over. Starting over do not have to be dreadful, but an exciting, eye-opening experience in stepping into a new thing. Good day to my creative and insightful readers! (If you have not read the other parts to the story, go back and find Part 1 & 2)
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