Can you hear them?

The people whispering aloud,

The ones who breathe out criticisms.

Witnessing people talk down of my mother like nobody's business.

How clumsy of her to trip over nothing.

I see them shake their head when she locks her keys in her car.

They call her crazy when she closes the blinds in the room.

“The pink elephants are watching us”.

But they don’t see what I see.

We have had some great times in our life.

The times we both huddle on the couch, watching every movie.

The couch with holes and tears we sit on, passing the oversized popcorn bowl.

The smell of fried bacon in the morning drifting to my nose as I play Sonic on the gamecube.

Telling jokes and stories that no one but us would understand.

Uncontrollable laughter filling the room, never fading away.

Holding me like a protective mother would.

Rubbing my shoulder as her way of telling me “I love you”.

People frown upon her.

People criticize her.

People mock her.

I turn, look at my mother, cleaning a smoothie spill on the ceiling.

And I smile.