Mom, is that you?

Amanda Broz

“Mom?” I shouted, “Where are you?”

I wailed through my grandparent’s corridor.  The faint sound of soft rock music playing upstairs echoed through the hallway. I walked into the kitchen and my mom was sitting at the dining table. She peered down onto the blank sheets of lined paper in front of her. What was she thinking? Her head snapped up abruptly and I jumped. The look in her eyes was unfamiliar.  Her face was expressionless and cold. I felt like she couldn’t see me, but she was looking directly at me. Something is wrong.

“Mom, are you okay?”

I cautiously moved onto the chair and her empty gaze stayed focused onto the spot I stood one moment ago. She continued to stare at the wall without saying a word. The silence was unbearable. Is she mad at me? I thought. I grabbed the blank sheet of paper and pen sitting on the…

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