COLD TOWELS

Yesterday I saw a daisy on the side of the road.It stood in bright sunlight,and it was pure and beautiful.The petals reached out to me,begging to be plucked.I picked the daisy for my mother.She was going to love it.

When I reached the door of our house,I looked at the daisy.I must have held on too tighly,for the stem had snapped,and the petals were wilted and gray.I placed the flower on the ground and headed inside.That's okay Mom wouldn't have wanted the flower anyway.She had no need for flowers.Flowers weren't going to make her better.

Positive thinking.She said that's what we all need.

I'm tired,though.Too tired to thik positively.I'm tired of medicine all over the house,and long brown hair in the sink and constamtly worried faces.I am standing in the kitchen,missing the days when Mom was around doiung chores ,like ironing.

As the heap of laundry grows larger in the corner of the room,I sit and try to remember Mom humming soft tunes as she sat by the washer and folded clothes.She always let me lie in the fresh,warm towels as soon as they were done in the dryer.I imagine her warm,brown eyes twinkling,'Maya,would you like to help me fold the laundry,darling?' Of course,I was never any help.I'd snuggle up in the towels and watch her do all the work.

My smile is interrupted by talk of tumors,hospital bills and sickness.All thoughts and feelings seem to melt away,like ice slipping away to nothing.Nothing matters anymoe.Since Mom got sick.we all stopped functioning.My family isn't living;it's just existing.

A trip planned for Lake Tahoe,put on hold.I don't know if we'll ever get there.The funny thing is,I don't really care.I thought about getting out of bed this morning.Then I wondered,What's the use? The same thing with taking shower,and changing my dirty clothes,and brushing my hair and teeth.There just doesn't seem to be a point.I would do these things for the sake of normalcy,but things aren't normal.

There's a pile of dirty dishes in the sink.Dinner last night:soggy cereal and milk.It tasted like mud,nothingness .My body is numb and achy.Like when you're sick and everything that touches your skin hurts.Positive again,if i'll be the same old Maya.These thoughts dissolve at the sound of cough and a groan from Mom's room.

I know she's in there,wasting away.And soon,there'll be nothing left.A big gap in the family photo,silence at the dinner table.Out in the living room,I can see Mom's favourite rocking chair.It stands empty,except for the faint imprint of a body smoothed onto the seat.Soon ,all the little things,like her toothbrush or her worn bedroom slippers,will stop appearing around the house.

I wonder if i'll cry when she dies.I don't think I will .I don't think I'll be able to realize that crying is what I'm supposed to do.When I hug her,she like the daisy;I hug too tightly,not wanting to let go.And beneath my warm,unknowing grasp,she is slowly fading away

I'll pick another daisy and be more careful with it this time.Abd Mom will tell me that she loves me and sigh one last sigh.Then,she'll close her eyes,without seeing my flower.That's okay,though.Mom wouldn't have wanted the flower anyway.She has no need for flowers.

PS: Umie i miss u so much