This is going to be part of a bigger story, thus is only part of it.
| Coral Dreams
By: Shannon Gray
The sun was radiantly bouncing off the water of the Atlantic coast, and you could easily see it through the old worn out screen door. The sound of bacon sizzling in our one rusted pan brought my focus back to my mother, my sick dying mother. I have a picture of her when she was younger and well, she was stunningly beautiful. She had the most striking blue eyes the same color of robins eggs, her hair was blond and very long. Those striking eyes that once radiated so much knowledge are but shades of gray now, the hair that was once so beautiful is now gray as well.
She loved my father very much but I guess he just didn't love her. When he found out she was pregnant he just up and left, in her words and I quote,
"He didn't even look back, the last thing I saw were his taillights."
I never meet my father but mom tells me stories about him all the time. One story she told me was about the time he gave the shirt off his back to this homeless guy who had nothing. It's funny how someone she describes as funny, goodhearted , handsome, intelligent, and strong, could just up and leave her because he wasn't ready to step up and be a father! Whatever his problem is I have a mind to sock him in the jaw should we ever meet, no hey dad nice to meet ya oh by the way I'm your daughter crud, I'm just gonna sock him plain and simple.
Mom places a plate in front of me with bacon and eggs on it but doesn't make one for herself, same ole mom always looking out for me and not herself.
"You need to eat something here have this bacon and some of these eggs."
She simply waves me off, this is part of the reason she's so sick, she hardly eats and when she does it's not very much at that. For as long as I can remember she's always been this way, caring for others just not herself. She says I got the caring for others part form her but the caring for myself from my father, if that's so it's the only good thing he every gave me. Mom is sick and she still tells me not to remember any of the bad times we've had just the good. So thats what I do when I feel down, just remember when I was younger and mom wasn't sick, we would look through those property magazines and find a house we liked and go on and on about what the inside would look like, where our bedrooms would be, and what people we'ed meet. I miss those days when she would smile and be ever optimist about the days, weeks, and years to come.
A nock at the door startles me back into realty, away from the memories I hold so dear. Mom answers the door, it's a salesman, I strongly dislike salesmen. I hear mom gently try and turn him down but he just keeps talking, this is when I get up walk over and slam the door in his face.
"I was trying to be nice Jess!"
"I know but sometimes it just doesn't work."
This little bit of bickering went on for a few minuets by the end we were both laughing at the look on his face when I slammed the door.