I slowly crept into the dimly lit living room.
Upon the faded loveseat, I see a blurred figure, faintly moaning.
I immediately smelt the distinct odor of her favorite alcohol and stale breath.
I could almost taste the repulsive tonic and the salt of her tears as I sat down besides her.
I feebly attempted to grasp her hunched over shoulders, but I couldn’t seem to reach her.
Seemingly oblivious to my presence, I quickly retracted my small, bony hands.
Rather than tasting her salty tears, I tasted the harsh waves of all the seven seas.
I smelt the reek of a dirty and tumultuous Irish pub, thousands of miles from here.
I heard the screams of a thousand mourning souls lamenting over their loved ones.
I saw the vile eruption of the Chernobyl nuclear accident, spitting radioactive poison everywhere
And through all the chaos, I could see my mother shaking, convulsing, contorting, thrashing about
Over the death of her world, her life, and her other half missing from the busted couch on which she sat,
Her husband.