We were the picture-perfect family, Mommy, Daddy, and me

T

he hot sun beat down on my head as I wiped the sweat off my forehead yet again. While my friends talked animatedly about today’s special activity in the day camp we worked in, my mind wandered back home. Would she be there when I walked in the door? I mean really there. Or would they be there taking up all her attention? I didn’t have to wonder for too long. Before I knew it, I was home. As I walked up the familiar path to my house I wondered if it would always be this way or if things would get better and I would have her back.

I thought back to life before them. It was me and Mommy. Mommy and me. We were always there for each other. I was an only child, so I had all her attention. I basked in her love and homemade cookies.

One time, after I got back a really hard test that I practically failed, I came home not really wanting to speak to anyone, until I walked in the door and my mother’s voice melted my anger.

“Sarah’la, is that you?” Her warm voice filled me with a calming sensation.

“Yes, Ima,” I answered. And then, “What’s that smell?”

“I just made a fresh batch of cookies. Come get them while they’re still hot.”

I walked into the kitchen and sat down facing my mother. Together we ate cookies and talked for hours until my father came home.

“Where are my two favorite girls?” His voice filled the house as he walked into the kitchen and pulled up a chair. Together we ate supper, and then together we said goodnight and all went to sleep. The next morning, we ate breakfast together, and we walked out the door together on our way to begin a new day. Everything was all together. We were the picture-perfect family, Mommy, Daddy, and me.