Living in a little town in Wyoming my whole life, I have grown to love my surroundings. Everyday when I was little I would help my mom in the garden planting seeds for cucumbers or pulling the unwanted weeds out of the well-kept soil. I will admit I did not enjoy pulling those little stinkers out, but my mom was with me and I enjoyed her company. She was one of the best mother's a girl could have. She taught my best friend, Jake, and me how to enjoy nature: its beauty, its serenity, and even its inhabitants. People in our neighborhood loved her and she was constantly in and out of the house helping someone or other.
As I got older there would be days when she didn't feel like "going out." It became more frequent than not, even Jake noticed. She wasn't very old for a mom; she was the same age as my father. Weekly I would see her health getting weaker and weaker, but I never asked her about it knowing she would tell me if something was wrong; we told each other everything.
On my last day of junior year I was dropped off at the end of my street and had to walk the rest of the way home. Feeling a slight breeze, I looked up and saw the Wyoming Urban Hospital helicopter lifting off from our backyard. It hit me like a big yellow school bus; something was wrong with my mom. I dropped my backpack and took off running, jumping over the white picket fence surrounding our house. Fear swelled up inside of me. I didn't want to lose my mom; I wasn't ready to lose her. I barely reached the backyard when the helicopter had already taken off. I blankly watched it as it flew, frozen for a moment. Realizing I needed to find out what was going, I sprinted into the house and frantically searched for the home phone. Near the empty home base was a sloppily written note and the car keys.
Jayden,
We're at the hospital. Mom wasn't feeling too well. Don't worry about her too much; she'll be okay. I left the keys for you assuming you'd want to meet us there. Drive safely. See you soon.
Love you,
Dad.
I barely finished reading the note before grabbing the keys and rushing out the front door to the emerald green Ford Escape. I grabbed my backpack along the way and threw it into the car, hopping in the driver's seat. Before I knew it, I slammed on the gas pedal and followed the lengthy private driveway out to the main road.