Life Does Not Have A Restart Button
It was dusk as I walked through the grass and made my way to the window. I looked inside my old house. My mom was there and she was making dinner. She was boiling potatoes to make mashed potatoes and she was eating a bit of it raw - she always did that. She would move her mouth with each cut the knife made into the potato like she was counting or something.
The kitchen smelled so good and was so warm. In the oven was a meatloaf...I always hated meat but I always ate her meatloaf...mmmm...with ketchup. She would always make baby peas to go with our meal and the second vegetable would sometimes be green beans. "Eat your vegetables" was what she'd say.
We'd usually have some kind of rolls and she'd always burn the bottoms. We always joked that if you didn't smell that burnt smell, then the rolls weren't done. She would tell us to shut-up and then she'd usually add for us to kiss her ass, but that was only when we were older and we could handle the obscene language coming out of our mother's mouth.
I leave the smell of the kitchen and wander to another window and see my dad in his recliner...glasses in his hand...newspaper on his chest...he is asleep, but touch that tv..."Hey, I was watching the news!"... yeah, sure you were dad...wait five seconds...zzzzzz....I'm changing it to cartoons.
"Lisa, go wash your hands, it's time for dinner...and wake up your dad." *grumble*grumble*grumble..."I'm not asleep...just resting my eyes." yeah, sure dad...let's eat.
We'd sit at the table. Just the three of us. A family...sitting at the table...eating a simple dinner. We always had sweet tea with our dinner...I guess it's a southern thing...I'd sure like some of my mother's sweet tea right now. We'd talk about things that happened during the day. Mostly whining about work, that sort of thing, but it was still togetherness.
After dinner, my mom would let the dishes soak and i would go to my bedroom. Dad took his rightful place in his recliner to 'get his nap out' while mom got control of the remote.
My room was my haven. I read. I watched movies. I wrote poems. I slept. I dreamed of great things. I dreamed of great people. I dreamed of prince charming. I enjoyed every minute, because I knew that things would change, and I appreciated what I had at that moment. The warmth of my home, the love from my parents. I was happy...
...I closed my eyes and when I opened them again...my house was dark. No tv playing for a snoring man...no dinners being prepared in the kitchen. No warm happy feelings...just coldness. No one there...not even me...I'm outside looking in...with tears running down my face, because I miss my mom. I miss my life. I miss...me.
Appreciate what you have. Love your parents. Don't use people just to see how many you can go through before your time is up. Life is not a game. You are not here to collect as many things as you can. You don't get 50 points for every broken heart. There is not a magic stone waiting for you when you crush that friendship. There is no trophy for not having any friends because they all think you are an asshole. There is no restart button for when you make that person cry. Life is not a do-over...you only get one chance to get it right. I may not be doing all that great, but I know that I love and I care and I'm there for people when they need me and they love me because of it. I have a collection of hearts, but they are still beating, they still love and care and maybe because they know me, they are honest and giving and kind. I'll leave the others to themselves...to use and use and use until they suck their prey dry. Leaving that hollow body and then moving on to another sweet soul...hopefully that time that sweet soul will change you. There's always hope.