One of Those Nights

November 15, 2011
It’s the nights like these that I’ll never forget. The sky is the color of charcoal, the air is cold and crisp, and everything about those nights was perfect. My mom would call my name across the house when Mel would be asleep. “Hanna can you ride to Sam’s house with me?” it was usually my bed time when the clients needed to be checked up on when there was an emergency, but I would jump from my bed and dress as quickly as possible. I would throw open my drawers looking for sweat pants, grab my big winter coat even though it wasn’t that cold, and run to meet her in the kitchen. We’d walk out the garage and slide into her fancy sports car that purred when it started; the air would kiss my face tenderly with its little wisps of cool winds. We would ride with the windows down and the music would be off or turned up loud enough so you could barely hear it. I’d ask “What’s going on?” then my mother would tell me how she thought so so was lying or someone was staying the night when they shouldn’t, someone was up to no good, and we would drive to the client’s house in silence. She would go inside, and I would sit in the car playing with the music looking for something nice and soft to listen to. if she was inside for any longer than ten minutes I would worry. The various situations of her getting raped, shot, or beaten would race threw my head so fast I could never decided what was worse. Sometimes I wouldn’t listen to the music in fear that if someone had fired a gun I wouldn’t be able to hear it, or if she screamed that the voices of Jesse Woods or Kate McGill would drown her out. When she finally came out I would ask what had happened, usually nothing ever happened. Just a bad prediction. And we would ride home with the windows down, my mom’s voice talking to her office manger telling her that everything was a okay and not to worry. I for some reason savored these moments like chocolates. How when you put a chocolate in your mouth it melts and you close your eyes to take in it goodness, you want it to last forever but you know that it can’t. so take it for all its worth in that moment, and you let it go when it’s all melted away.
When we would arrive home I would stumble out of the car, my tired body wanting to fall into the warm covers of my heavenly bed. I would soon be jolted awake when I opened the car door, the cold was colder than before, I’d set my bare feet on the cold cement and I would rush to the door so my toes wouldn’t get frostbitten. When we would get settled back in at home, I’d go and kiss my mother goodnight, she would thank me for coming with her, but at times I felt like I should be thanking her for giving me those moments.

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