Mama sits by the fireplace wrapped in an old and ratty quilt. She stares into the flames and a few tears drip down her face. She doesn't recognize my little brother playing on the rug, nor does she notice me. She's in her own world. Papa says when she does that it's because she's very sad about something. I wish I could help her, but only Papa can get her out of her spells. Papa's gone away for a while so there's no one to help.

I know that she's thinking of all her family and friends who died years ago in the final war for freedom. At least, that's what papa told me. He has flashes of memories come back too. Mama says he was tortured, and that it was so bad he one tried to kill mama when his mind was messed up. When he has his flashbacks, Mama's the one to help him as he is the one to help her. They comfort eachother. But now, there's no one to help Mama. Papa won't be back for a long time.

I decide I must help Mama myself. Rising off the couch, I stumble towards her slowly, tripping over my own feet.

"Mama? Mama, please come back. Papa's gone, and I don't know how to do this. Don't be sad. You still have Papa, Rye, and me, Willow. Mama, please," I say, climbing into her lap. I don'g say anything for a while. Instead, I sit all curled into her, staring at the fire and fingering a few strings of the quilt that have fallen out of the stitching.

After what feels like a long time, I feel Mama's arms wrap around me and draw me close. She buries her face in my hair. We sit like that for a few minutes until my brother toddles over from his toys and motions that he wants up. Mama reaches down and adjusts me on her lap so there is room for Rye. We sit like that for hours, staring into the fire until it's time for bed.