When I Was Younger
By: xzerox195
When I Was Younger
On my Mother's fireplace sit three pictures, three distinct pictures that define my life. Whenever I visit I sit and look at the three frames and the significance that each of them hold. The first of them being of me, my mother, and my father; both of them are smiling down at the baby version of me when I had just awoken into the world.
When I was born, I was happy. I awoke into the world in the arms of my loving mommy. My daddy stood over us, a mixture of love and protectiveness in his eyes. I instantly felt warm and loved, they both smiled at me as I fell asleep in her arms.
Mommy was a politician and soon after I was born she had to return to work. Although she had to work long and hard hours, she always made sure she was home at night to spend the evening with me and my Daddy. Those nights we spent together are memories I hold very dear.
We would eat dinner together and Mommy would laugh and talk everything and nothing at all. All the while Daddy would smile at me and Mommy, and would make small comments here and there. After we would go read stories together in our den, before finally, tucking me into my small bed for the night. They would both wish me goodnight and tell me they loved me. I would stare into their eyes and could see the love they both held for me and each other.
My Daddy was part of a special task force called the preventers, but he was only called into work for special missions once in a while. During the times he was gone our butler, Pegan would watch me, but mommy would always come home earlier and spend extra time with me. She would do the things we normally did with Daddy at night, but I could see in her eyes the worry she had while Daddy was gone. When Daddy came home that worry would disappear completely, and I could see nothing but happiness in both my Mommy and Daddy's eyes.
That is until one night years later, when my world came crashing down.
Dad had left on one of his missions and as always before going to bed I prayed for him to be safe. I fell asleep with a smile on my face, knowing that my Dad would be home in a few days. I slept soundly that night until I heard a loud scream come from my parent's bedroom.
I jumped out of bed and ran to my Mom's room fear and panic gripping my heart. I emerged from my room and turned to look down the hall at my parent's room. I could hear my Mom's loud sobbing even though her large white doors to her room were shut. I ran down the hall and opened them as quickly as I could, fear and adrenaline pumping through my veins.
As I burst into my parent's room I will never forget the scene that lay before me. There huddled on the floor was my beautiful mom. Her hair was scattered about her in disarray and hung lifelessly about her. Her hands covered her face, and she was curled into a tight ball in a vain attempt to cover her heart wrenching cries.
My Mom, the beautiful, strong, politician who so many looked to on a daily basis; lay helplessly on the floor broken. I walked over to her and gently stroked her hair; it was all I could do for her at the time.
It was on that night I found out my Dad had died in battle. He always promised he would come home to me, but I knew he died defending all of us; and it's because of that reason I forgave him for breaking that promise to me. I remember the last time I saw him. It wasn't a big or extravagant goodbye; there were no tears or heart breaking goodbyes. I simply gave him a hug and a kiss and he walked out the front door telling me he would bring me back something special.
As the years passed my Mother slowly slipped into a mask, she would still smile and laugh but it always seemed restrained and not as full as it had been before. I could see the strain in her eyes when someone mentioned my father or when she would look at my father's chair or the double bed in their room. My mother by no means was a bad Mother. She loved me with all her heart and gave me everything, but even though no one else could tell; I could always see how much she missed my Father.
I am married now and have a husband and children of my own. My Mother is still a politician hard at work making the world a better place. I can tell she uses work as an excuse to keep her mind busy, but she always finds time to visit her grandchildren and me. Although sometimes late at night I have caught her standing by a window, her hand on the cool glass, talking to my Father.
My name is Angela Lynn Dorlian, and I am still happy. I know that one day my parents will be together again, and that makes me happy.
Taking one last glance over the three pictures I smile at each of them. The first being of me and both my parents when I was born, the second one of me and my Mother at my Father's memorial service, tears in both of our eyes; and the third being of my Mother and me at my wedding day.
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