"What are you
doing?"
I smile, "Writing to my mother…"
He frowned,
his eyes soft, "I thought she was…"
My smile waned, "She
is; it helps me more than it does her, I guess…"
He sat down next to
me.
"You do this often?"
"Whenever I get the
chance."
"Oh."
I continue writing,
surprisingly oblivious to his prying eyes. He's been there.
He
knows.
"Why?"
I stop,
"Pardon?"
"Why confide in your mother when you have the
Avatar and your brother to listen?"
I smile weakly. If only it
were that easy.
"To them, I am a mother… and mothers
don't burden their children with personal problems."
The brush
is in my hands again, but he plucks it away. I glance at him
questioningly, and he shrugs.
"I'm all ears."
Sorry Mom… maybe some other night…