Well, I didn't get my tattoo done while my mom was still here, we never went out to that farewell dinner I wanted to do, I never wrote that letter I said I would before she left, and now she's gone. The earth outside my house is dark and windy and unwelcoming today. It's like the rain was anticipating her departure.
When she went, it was so nonchallant and unmoving--I anticipated a crying hug, something. But we briefly hugged and she walked to her car, telling me to study hard and all that. She told me she'd come back, but I don't know. We'd just been packing her van up, so when she went to the driver's side I thought she was just getting something. I didn't even know she was leaving at that exact moment. She was leaving and I didn't even know it. I don't think I know it still.
When she went, it was so nonchallant and unmoving--I anticipated a crying hug, something. But we briefly hugged and she walked to her car, telling me to study hard and all that. She told me she'd come back, but I don't know. We'd just been packing her van up, so when she went to the driver's side I thought she was just getting something. I didn't even know she was leaving at that exact moment. She was leaving and I didn't even know it. I don't think I know it still.
How the hell are you?