Friday, January 13, 2012

Moving Forward

(Photo submitted by Kaitlin)

We had just left Lost Angeles. Our next stop was Phoenix. My sister and I hopped into the back seat of the family car, our dad took the wheel, and Tammy, the dreaded stepmother, took shotgun.

It had been five weeks since the wedding, and Sammy and I, well we weren’t very happy with our father’s choice. Sure, Tammy was nice, but she wasn’t motherly at all. She could never take the place of our real mom, no matter how hard she tried.

Now, we were stuck with her for an entire week in the middle of the desert. If mom were still around, we wouldn’t be leaving LA at all.


All that we had left of her was a letter. We kept reading it over and over, but we couldn’t bring ourselves to find the true meaning behind her reasons for leaving the letter.


“My precious girls,” it started. We would always scoff at this line. She just up and left us when we needed her most.

It continued, “I love you two, I really do. I’m sorry that I never told you anything, and that I left when I did. You will never understand this, but at the time, I felt like I needed to.

“Christie, I need you to keep your head out and look out for your little sister. I know it’s going to be hard, but please, do it for me. Work hard and I want to be able to watch you grow up to be successful in whatever you want to do.

“Sammie, baby girl, keep smiling. I cannot bear to see you without that beautiful smile on your face. Step into the California sunshine and forget anything ever happened.

“I’ve never had to do this, and I did not want to do this in a letter, but I need to say goodbye to the two of you. Please, forgive me for leaving, and forgive me for every wrong I had ever done against the two of you.

“I love you, my precious daughters, and I hope you never forget that.”


We would read the words over and over, never understanding them. Until the day we got the call. Our father answered the phone, and dropped to his knees as he hung up the phone. Sam and I ran to his side, to see if he was all right.

“I’m alright, girls, but I’m afraid your mother is not,” he said. I looked into his eyes and saw the tears swell into droplets on his cheeks.

“What happened to mom?” Sam said, falling into place beside him.

“She’s, well, she’s not with us anymore.”

“What?” I gasped. I did not have any more words to say.


I still remember that day, nearly a year later, when I look out the window and see the cars drive by. I still hope one day it will be mom, driving up to visit us. I know it will never happen. We had Tammy now, and I guess she’s the only “mom” we have left.


I was brought back from the past by the screech of Tammy’s voice. She was going on and on about the best shops and the best restaurants. I ignored her rambling.


I looked to Sam. She was smiling. I suppose mom was right after all. We could get over this. Together.

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