a short piece about my Mom |
Treasure Every Moment Part 1 I cannot remember the sound of her voice. Years ago, it seemed her words would never stop echoing in my head. Even the whispers are gone. The night she died, I had been working a twelve-hour shift. The answering machine blinked steadily as I walked through the door. I put down my work clothes let the dog out, fed both the dog and the cat, and then listened to the machine as I made something to eat. Mom was cheerful that night leaving a quick hello and an invitation to call her back. I did not. It was just past nine and I had to get up early again the next day. I was tired. I thought I would call her from work. I finished my food and went to bed. Two hours later my phone rang, it was my brother pleading for me to pick up the phone. “Mom’s dead,” he said with a ragged voice. I looked at the clock it was twenty minutes past eleven. I would never talk to her again. I kept the tape from the recorder but somehow it was lost when I moved out of the state. It has been eight years since Mom died. I still have pictures and memories of her but it is her voice that I miss the most. |