Moving This Mountain 

          Yesterday I took my mom to the doctor. It was time for her staples to come out. It was a little of a wait but when we finally got in they took the staples out. My mom said it didn’t hurt like she thought it was going to. When they were off she said she felt better. But then she looked down. I feel like my heart had just shattered into a million pieces then was set on fire. Looking at her face, seeing how hurt she was. Looking down and seeing what she saw. The scar that was now forming. 

          I put my hand on her shoulder and told her she was strong. Not because she’s my mom, but she is one of the strongest women I know. She felt a little better. I try my best to comfort her as best as I can. I know I can’t make that hurt that she feels go away but I can help her though it. She seems at peace with what happened but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t emotionally hurt still. It changes everything. 

          Like yesterday before we went she wanted to wear a scarf. I asked her why? She told me that she just felt like it. But I knew she just didn’t feel comfortable going out like that. That gave me such a pain in my chest. Knowing she feels that way. That people will look. Jerks. They don’t even know what we have gone through, but it’s the sad truth, they judge. So I let her wear it, and I told her she looked beautiful. 

          We are still trying to move this mountain. It’s hard but here we are. One day at a time. It gives me much joy seeing how she’s returning to herself. Getting up and waking around. Even yelling at my brother and me to make our beds and clean up. I missed her. I missed that part of her. The part that made her my mom. No matter what happened, she’s still my mom. She will always be, and I will always love her, And it makes me happy that with each day that passes by she gets better. Physically and emotional. 

And it will be moved

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