Almost seven years had passed. He should have moved on already. But does anyone really 'move on'? Probably not. They probably just learn to adjust. He didn't miss her, though.
How could he miss what he never had? Or, at least, what he couldn't remember.
No, that was a lie. He could remember little things. Her voice, how her perfume smelled, hot coca at night, and how she helped him reach his cup; which she always put on the high stool. He remembered that she put an ice cube in his. It was something special. Something fun. He'd told only his closest of friends about things like that; but he avoided even them-or at least didn't purposefully go out of his way to see them-on mother's day.
It's not that they acted obnoxious or kept mentioning it, and it was really uncharacteristic of him to be the 'sulky' one, but whenever he was around them that day, he'd start wondering. What would I have given my mom for Mother's Day? What would she have liked? He planned to ask Grace some time when they were alone, but never got around to it.
Maybe that was what he wanted. Not to ask Grace, or to know what his mother would have liked to receive, but to know her.
A little too morbid for Dan, methinks. But people, y'know, tend to be sad when they're talking about the death of their mother's. Speaking of which….HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOM! What do you mean, you didn't want a drabble about a boy from a fictional series for 15 year olds and younger you didn't read and the death of his mother to be dedicated to you as a present? Uh, ok. See, this was only the first part of your present. The SECOND part is, um, this rock. It's magic! Really! …Have I mentioned part three?
And all you reviewin', dnt tel mee I maid a gramer meestaik becuz I youzed speltsheck.
MONKEYMONKEYMONKEYMONKEY. Did I mention? This is for the Impossible Challenge.