The Woman in The Rain
The air is frigid and damp. Early February weather; unpredictable but stagnant. A woman dashes into the darkness, zipping her jacket frantically. The thick mud on her boots pulls her to the ground and for a second, I want to help her.
I have seen her before but for some reason, I do not remember where. Her movements are fluid and familiar. She keeps running towards me, as if she has forgotten something.
This woman, I can see clearly now has a face much like my own. I stare into the water beads that form beneath her eyelids. Coming closer, her face brushes against my cheek and her tears taste like steel. She touches the bruised scar on my heart from broken promises before but this time, it is too late. I can still hear her laugh as night creatures hum around the crescent moon.
Then I realized, this woman is my mother.