Northern_Lights_2014

would randomly start cooking in the middle of the night. There used to be a wide variety of edible and inedi- ble foods on the table after one of these episodes. I also remember when things weren’t that great. Since there were so many deaths from The Great War, there wasn’t a lot of money given to the soldiers’ families. That meant that Mama had to work hard to provide for Jenny and me after Daddy died. She used to work odd hours and long shifts to keep food on the table and clothes on our backs. Things were tough and money was always an issue. For a few years, we rented out one of the rooms in the house to get extra money. It worked for a while, until people wouldn’t pay their rent. They stayed for a few months and then left. Some of them used to call Mama crazy. They would say that she was off her rocker and should be in an institute. Back then, I never understood what they were talking about. I never thought Mama was crazy. It made no sense to me. One day, I asked Jenny why everyone said she was crazy. She always told me not to worry “my pretty little head about it” because some people are just rude and mean. Over time, Mama began to check in and out of reality. When she did this, she would have this vacant expression on her face and sit on the couch, staring out the big picture window. Suddenly, the memory of my last night here hits me like a ton of bricks. I close my eyes and try not to think about that horrible night. I remember trying to pull her out of that state, but with no success, sitting up with her for hours. When out of nowhere she gets up and looks at me saying, “He wants me to follow him.” “Who are you talking about, Mama?” “He wants me to be with him.” She whispered, tears rolling down her check. “I can’t stand to see him so miserable.” She headed straight for the kitchen and yanked out the utensil drawer, grabbing the big carving knife. I rushed to her side and attempted to grab the knife from her. She stabbed herself before I could even try. The rest of that night is still a blur for me. I only remember her saying they need to be together. A few days later, I left the house. I couldn’t stand to be there anymore. Wiping my tears, I looked away from the window. I hope there is a place that can once again be called “home.” I stayed at a friend’s house before Jenny convinced me to come and move in with Aunt Sarah with her. “At least until you graduate high school,” she said. Aunt Sarah had a little house in the country a couple minutes away from a small town. I know why Jenny wanted me there. Aunt Sarah was every supportive of me, especially since I had problems coping with Mama’s death. She and Jenny put up with every mood swing and one-sided shouting match that first year. I’m still surprised I wasn’t sent away. “It’s about time you showed up!” Jenny said harshly as she walked down the stairs, carrying a small box labeled Pictures . “I was afraid I would have to do all of this myself,” she huffed and set the box on top of the one at the base of the staircase. Looking down, I rubbed the remnants of tears from my face. The last thing I need to do today is have a discussion about Mama’s death. Maybe one day we will, but not for a while and especially not now. She had lost quite a bit of weight since I last saw her. It wasn’t a lot, but it was noticeable. Her red fit- ted shirt clung to her hour-glass figure, which also was emphasized by her dark wash jeans. I slowly walked 26