Saturday, October 24, 2015

imaginary excerpts series: #1

My mom always took me with her on her morning bus run. We'd pick up about fifty kids from neighborhoods next to our own, making about ten stops along the way. I always brought a book with me, as suggested by my mother, though I never read them - at least not while the bus was moving. I have always suffered from car sickness, or motion sickness, whichever is the one where you get sick while reading in a car. But it comforted me to know that I had brought my book, as my mom had asked, and that it was there as a constant visual that I loved my mom enough to listen to her. It wouldn't take long before I realized that the art of listening, and the feeling of having someone to listen to you, could make or break a person. And as of today, you could say I'm quite broken.

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