Untitled Short Story

Too large backpack banging him in the back of his knees with a steady thump as he ran, Dawson’s short legs covered the pavement that lead to his house with astonishing quickness. Today was his first day of school, and he had so much to tell his mother. There was the teacher, Miss Bender who smelt like apples and cinnamon when she bent over his desk to look at the picture that he had been coloring, calling him dear and offering him a warm smile that made every little boy fall in love with her. And then there were the other students, some of whom had wiggled their way closer to him, eager to become his friend and catch his attention before the others did.

All of this was so exciting, and he wanted to tell his mommy every bit. He tried to guess what his mom was going to give him for a snack. Maybe milk and cookies, because that was his favorite; or perhaps she would make him eat something healthy, like an apple because daddy would be around. The thought of food at the front of his eager mind, Dawson started running a little faster when he turned the corner, and his house came into view.
Lining the aged and cracked sidewalk that lead to his house were wildflowers of all kinds and colors, and with the sudden inspiration aimed towards getting one of his mom’s bear hugs and smiles, Dawson bent down and picked a few of them, shaking the dirt away as some of the roots came up with the flowers.

“Mommy’s gonna love this,” he giggled to himself as he started back towards the house, his little legs moving ever faster as he got closer to his destination.

The thought of telling his mom his news and having her excited to see him made his little heart dance in his chest, and the short walk home seemed to be taking an extra long time.

Finally, his hand was turning the doorknob to the house, and he was kicking his shoes off onto the carpet of the landing. He knew that daddy was going to yell at him later for not putting them away neatly, but right now, he had to see his mommy before he burst to pieces from his big adventurous day.

Something was wrong though, he could hear this little sniffling sound coming from somewhere in the house, and his mom wasn’t singing and making dinner like she usually would be this time of day. Following the sound, Dawson made his way to the living room, and was shocked to his that his dad was home and had his arms wrapped about his mom, who was crying into her hands. Turning his head, Dawson saw that his nana and papa were also there and a tall man that he didn’t recognize. Hearing him enter the room, all heads turned towards him and his mother lowered his hands, giving him a weak smile, but not moving to stand up and make his snack.

“Mommy, what’s wrong?” he asked meekly, afraid of the strange man in the room, and confused as to why all of them looked so sad.

At his words, his mother started crying again, and his nana held her arms out to him, and he scrambled quickly into her lap, burrowing into the warmth of her arms, all the while unable to tear his eyes off of his mother. His nana was the first to speak, her fingers gently raking through his hair as she spoke.

“Mommy’s very sick,” she said quietly, her voice seeming to be coming from somewhere very far away, “God has decided that he needs her in heaven to watch over all of the little boys and girls who don’t have a mommy to take care of them.”

Tears sprung to his eyes, and his chest began to hurt. Lip trembling, he looked at his mom with wide, confused eyes as the tears streamed quickly and silently over his cheeks, “But if you go to heaven to be their mommy, who is going to take care of me? Who is going to be my mommy?”

His words caused her to cry harder then ever, and when he felt something wet on the top of his head, Dawson looked up to see that his nana was crying to. Then he looked at papa, and he looked sad, and dad, well, he just looked mad but he always looked mad, so that was okay. No one seemed eager to answer him, and Dawson continued to stare at his mother as she sobbed, trying to decide what he had done to not make her want him anymore. Was it the time that he didn’t put his toys away after she had asked him so many times to? Or was it because he didn’t want to go to bed the day that daddy’s boss came for supper? If he wasn’t so bad all the time, would mommy stay?

“I’m sorry for being so bad mommy, and making you want to go and be someone else’s mommy,” he turned and buried himself in his nana’s arms, wishing so very much that he was a better boy who didn’t make his mommy want to run away.

“You’re not a bad boy honey;” his mother said softly, her voice very quiet, “God just decided that he needed mommy more than you do. It’ll be okay, you have your nana and papa and daddy. I love you and you’re mommy’s very best little boy, for ever and ever.”

Nodding meekly, Dawson finally remembered the flowers that he had been clutching in his hands, and he dropped them onto the floor unnoticed by anyone else in the room. Almost immediately, he forgot about the flowers as he buried his face in his grandma’s shirt and cried himself into a sleep.

If anyone had been paying attention, they would have seen that the moment they hit the floor, those flowers wilted and died, crumbling into dust against the dark gray of the carpet, beauty that once was now lost, a foreshadowing of the events to come along in young Dawson’s life.