Ms. Evelyn Stromb-Walla-Walla, Washington
A mother is supposed to love their child. To make sure their child is protected from all things evil in the world. But what if that greatest evil is inside of them? How are you supposed to protect them from themselves?
My daughter has not been a perfect child. She would get colicky and cry for hours at a time. She would have her tantrums and throw those little wooden blocks with letters across the room. She would give me the silent treatment after I told her to eat her cauliflower. But these are all stages, things I know she would grow out of. Things that would get better over time.
But when Mag hit age fourteen, things drastically changed. First it was little things, like small kitchen fires-which was pretty normal with my old stove, and candle flames sparking and lighting papers ablaze. Then…one time Mag and I were sitting in the food court at the mall. I remember that day so well. I wanted to buy a pair of business shoes for my new interview. I had the Caesar salad with light salad and chicken, and Mag had olive pizza-she loves olives, she eats them all the time.
"Mag, you look upset," I asked, obviously concerned. She is my daughter after all, and what makes her upset, hurts me too.
"Mom, it's nothing." She looked down at the pizza, letting her blond hair fall to her face.
"Honey, talk to me. Is it Brian?"
"Ma…" she was clearly exasperated. "No, it's not Brian. I'm fine."
"Okay. You know, you can talk to me anytime you want. I am your mother, and you can trust me with anything."
"Will you love me…no matter what?" She looked up at me, her blue eyes, her father's eyes staring into mine.
"Yes. Tell me."
"I don't know what's wrong with me. I…was in chemistry and we were lighting the Bunsen burner. But there was a leak in the hose. The air around it burst into flames. And I…I was in the fire."
My heart flew into my throat then collapsed into my stomach. I ran over to her, and threw my arms around her. "No…you are okay though. You are fine right? You aren't burned." I felt tears well in my eyes.
"No, mommy, I'm fine. That's just it. I'm fine. I should have died. But the flames didn't hurt me. They were all over me. But, they didn't hurt me. I don't know why. Mommy. I'm so scared." She burst into tears. Mommy…mommy was all that she was saying as she sobbed into my shoulder.
Then I heard a scream. I turned and saw a ball of flame erupt from the Silver Wok, the little Chinese food place. People began to run as the court began to become an inferno. I couldn't move. Mag looked over my shoulder and stood up. She put her hand out as the fire raged over to us.
I tried to scream, tried to move. I couldn't. The fire swallowed her up. I screamed when I saw that. My baby…I saw her when she was in her cradle, when she took her first step, her first book, school…my baby was dead. And I would be too.
But I didn't happen that way. The flames seemed to stop and dissipated in the air. I saw a form. My Mag. She was alive. She smiled, tears running down her eyes.
"Mommy. I…Do you still love me?" I couldn't move. I sat there. She walked to me, her arms outstretched.
"Oh, sweetie. I do. No matter what you can do, I still love you."
Two days later, after countless interviews and declarations of it being a miracle by our church and priest, Father Peter, we heard the doorbell rang. Two teenagers, a little older than my Mag was standing there. One had sunglasses on; the other had fiery red hair.
"Hello, Mrs. Stromb? My name is Jean Grey. This is Scott Summers. We'd like to talk to you about your daughter Maggie."
They explained to Mag and me about a genetic mutation that causes a person to have certain abilities. That it is triggered by puberty. And that my Mag had it.
"…And with the proper training, Maggie can control her powers."
"Mr. Summers-"
"Scott, please."
"You mean my daughter can manipulate fire?" I shook my head and stood up.
"Yes."
"Can I still live out my normal life? Or will I be a portable barbeque pit for the rest of my life?"
"Yes, but the proper training is necessary." I began to cry.
"Mommy, don't cry. I'm sort of okay with this, but I can hurt someone if I am not careful. And there I can learn how to be careful."
"I know. I want what is best for you. But, you'll be on the east coast, and I am stuck here. And I want to be with you. You're my baby. No matter how old you are, you are always my baby. And I can't lose you like I lost Jack."
"I'm sure the Professor will always let you visit. It will be beneficial for you to be informed of Maggie's training." Jean was a careful speaker. She knew exactly what to say. No wonder she was chosen to come here.
Maggie left two weeks later. The house is really quiet. I miss her voice, the sounds of her coming in the house after school. I just miss her.
And I'll love my little girl, no matter what. She's my baby. I'll love her forever.
A mother is supposed to love their child. To make sure their child is protected from all things evil in the world. But what if that greatest evil is inside of them? How are you supposed to protect them from themselves?
My daughter has not been a perfect child. She would get colicky and cry for hours at a time. She would have her tantrums and throw those little wooden blocks with letters across the room. She would give me the silent treatment after I told her to eat her cauliflower. But these are all stages, things I know she would grow out of. Things that would get better over time.
But when Mag hit age fourteen, things drastically changed. First it was little things, like small kitchen fires-which was pretty normal with my old stove, and candle flames sparking and lighting papers ablaze. Then…one time Mag and I were sitting in the food court at the mall. I remember that day so well. I wanted to buy a pair of business shoes for my new interview. I had the Caesar salad with light salad and chicken, and Mag had olive pizza-she loves olives, she eats them all the time.
"Mag, you look upset," I asked, obviously concerned. She is my daughter after all, and what makes her upset, hurts me too.
"Mom, it's nothing." She looked down at the pizza, letting her blond hair fall to her face.
"Honey, talk to me. Is it Brian?"
"Ma…" she was clearly exasperated. "No, it's not Brian. I'm fine."
"Okay. You know, you can talk to me anytime you want. I am your mother, and you can trust me with anything."
"Will you love me…no matter what?" She looked up at me, her blue eyes, her father's eyes staring into mine.
"Yes. Tell me."
"I don't know what's wrong with me. I…was in chemistry and we were lighting the Bunsen burner. But there was a leak in the hose. The air around it burst into flames. And I…I was in the fire."
My heart flew into my throat then collapsed into my stomach. I ran over to her, and threw my arms around her. "No…you are okay though. You are fine right? You aren't burned." I felt tears well in my eyes.
"No, mommy, I'm fine. That's just it. I'm fine. I should have died. But the flames didn't hurt me. They were all over me. But, they didn't hurt me. I don't know why. Mommy. I'm so scared." She burst into tears. Mommy…mommy was all that she was saying as she sobbed into my shoulder.
Then I heard a scream. I turned and saw a ball of flame erupt from the Silver Wok, the little Chinese food place. People began to run as the court began to become an inferno. I couldn't move. Mag looked over my shoulder and stood up. She put her hand out as the fire raged over to us.
I tried to scream, tried to move. I couldn't. The fire swallowed her up. I screamed when I saw that. My baby…I saw her when she was in her cradle, when she took her first step, her first book, school…my baby was dead. And I would be too.
But I didn't happen that way. The flames seemed to stop and dissipated in the air. I saw a form. My Mag. She was alive. She smiled, tears running down her eyes.
"Mommy. I…Do you still love me?" I couldn't move. I sat there. She walked to me, her arms outstretched.
"Oh, sweetie. I do. No matter what you can do, I still love you."
Two days later, after countless interviews and declarations of it being a miracle by our church and priest, Father Peter, we heard the doorbell rang. Two teenagers, a little older than my Mag was standing there. One had sunglasses on; the other had fiery red hair.
"Hello, Mrs. Stromb? My name is Jean Grey. This is Scott Summers. We'd like to talk to you about your daughter Maggie."
They explained to Mag and me about a genetic mutation that causes a person to have certain abilities. That it is triggered by puberty. And that my Mag had it.
"…And with the proper training, Maggie can control her powers."
"Mr. Summers-"
"Scott, please."
"You mean my daughter can manipulate fire?" I shook my head and stood up.
"Yes."
"Can I still live out my normal life? Or will I be a portable barbeque pit for the rest of my life?"
"Yes, but the proper training is necessary." I began to cry.
"Mommy, don't cry. I'm sort of okay with this, but I can hurt someone if I am not careful. And there I can learn how to be careful."
"I know. I want what is best for you. But, you'll be on the east coast, and I am stuck here. And I want to be with you. You're my baby. No matter how old you are, you are always my baby. And I can't lose you like I lost Jack."
"I'm sure the Professor will always let you visit. It will be beneficial for you to be informed of Maggie's training." Jean was a careful speaker. She knew exactly what to say. No wonder she was chosen to come here.
Maggie left two weeks later. The house is really quiet. I miss her voice, the sounds of her coming in the house after school. I just miss her.
And I'll love my little girl, no matter what. She's my baby. I'll love her forever.