nora patterson. twelve. cb

when i was thirteen, my mom died because she was too drunk and she was out wandering around and she walked right into the electric fence. as you can imagine, it gave her a heart attack.

it took days to find her body.

at first, i thought that she'd just left. i don't know if she ever loved my father, not really, and it certainly didn't seem like she did. she used to disappear a lot, go out for something to drink after dinnertime and not come back until the next morning. she'd stumble in while dad was getting dressed to go and work in the mines and they'd fight and it'd wake me up and then he'd leave and she'd sleep all day and have dinner made for him when he came home and it'd be so quiet you could hear a pin drop. i remember i used to crawl out onto our little house's rooftop, curl into a ball and just stare into the sunset to try and forget that she was going to leave again and he was going to get angry again and everything, everything would be awful. every day of forever.

i think i love the sunset in a way i'm not supposed to though, can't help but remember every time i stare at the pinks and reds that i love it because it's always on the edge of leaving.

a sunset exists, constantly disappearing.

i think that's something i'd like to experience.