I remember the day she left. Just ten minutes before 6 o’clock at night. She had three large suitcases and a scared expression on her face. Scared of what was to come. I remember what she was wearing. A pair of jeans, a sweater I got her for Christmas, a white jacket that she got with me, and my striped Toms. I remember the tears running down my face and hitting the cold wooden floors. She stood in the doorframe. I remember the words “I love you and I never want you to forget that ever.”

I remember how I nodded my head and wrapped my arms around her and gently sobbed into her shoulder. My brother was crying by the piano banging his head on the keys. My dad was already in the car getting ready to take her to the airport. Taking her 2,989 miles away from us for one month. I remember her giving me a final hug and her favorite necklace to keep until she returned. I remember seeing the white car, a Christmas gift from my dad, leave the driveway. The car lights dimmed as they went down the hill. I looked at the clock and just like that :6 o’clock. I won’t forget getting down on my knees and crying. I won’t forget the bomb of emotions that went off inside of me.

I remember the first time she facetimed at me at 6 o’clock at night like we promised. We talked for 15 minutes exactly until she had to go to dinner with my grandmother. I remember when we started to drift away. Facetime calls were missed. There were no responses at times. Sports games and practices started to interfere. I could already feel her slipping further away from me after each day.

I remember when she called me the day she got her surgery done. I remember seeing her with all the tubes of blood on the table and seeing the tubes on her chest. Even with all those things she still looked like the same beautiful mother that was home with me three weeks ago. I told her that I loved her with all my heart. I remember her saying “This has been the hardest thing I have ever had to do, Nicole.” Just hearing her say my name made me feel so much better. After saying that a tear slid down her face. I tried to stop the tears flowing down her face with words of encouragement and loving words. What she said next left me feeling like a dirtbag.

I remember she said, “Nicole I really feel like we have become distant, I mean we no longer talk every night at 6 like we said we would and I don’t like it at all.” I held back the tears from escaping my eyes. The words I was so afraid she might say, the words that I had been thinking about just put a deep pit in my stomach and I felt sick. I told her that I was going to make up for all those missed calls at 6 o’clock. I told her that I was never going to slip up like that again. I said goodbye and told her I loved her again. I flopped onto my bed.

I lie there and think. Here is this amazing woman that loves me with every part of her body more than words and I can’t even remember to have a conversation with her at 6 o’clock. I can’t remember that she gave birth to me and would do literally anything for me. Can I not remember how to be a good daughter. Can I not remember how to be responsible and be there for my mother when she needs me. Ever since that night I vowed to call her every single night until she returned. Nothing was going to keep me from remembering that vow. Absolutely nothing.