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I couldn’t imagine life without my mother. She was the brightest, boldest fixture in my life, a constant support and constant love. And I knew one day, she would be gone. I knew that someday, she would leave this world. I knew that my youth was a gift, that as I grew older, so the stakes would rise. Now was the time when tragedy rarely struck. My family was healthy, whole, happy, but the years would wear that away. It was only a matter of time.
She brought out the best in me, settled me in a way that didn’t feel like chains. It felt like roots, alive and sinking into the earth, thirsty and seeking. The depth those roots had twisted had been misjudged until tonight. Until I thought I would lose her but kept her instead.
Maybe this was the reason I’d guarded myself all this time, all these years. I’d made excuses—work, my father, etcetera, ad infinitum—because I didn’t want to make room for someone. Because when they were gone, the space was still there, empty and whistling with the wind.
