Lindsey Skye
Published by Lindsey Skye at Smashwords
Copyright 2011 Lindsey Skye
Her hair was long and tangled, falling out of its loose not in ragged strands. A few, thin streams of grey progressed from her head, slowly working their way down to the tip of her hair. Her eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep, and had purple shadows underneath them.
Her clothes were old, the faded hand-me-downs from an older sister. They were all covered in little patches of cloth, sewn on to cover the rips she’d gained through her tedious, manual job. She was covered in dog fur of all colours and lengths, to such an extent it almost looked as if she was wearing clothes made from dog fur.
She’d clearly been working all day, and she rubbed her back from having to lift heavy objects. She’d had that aching for several months now. The second she had finished working, she had driven straight to the school of her two youngest children. Despite her aching back, the arthritis in her hands and her need for sleep, she smiled and listened as the two children rattled off their day at school
When they got home, the children were no longer their angelic selves. She strained to keep them controlled, stopping them fighting one another, from teasing the dogs, from throwing stones from the pathway at the car she had spent an entire year saving up for though it was still coated in rust, just so her children wouldn’t have to walk to school every day.
The children had only been home for an hour when she had to start feeding her two dogs, and the neighbour’s yapping terrier. Her head was pounding, but she still smiled and nodded as her son listed off the main events of a book he was reading – a book she had read several times before.
By five o’clock, she was asleep on her feet, still working. She was cleaning the house, waiting for the arrival of her guests. She had always liked to be in a clean house, but having two dogs, plus a neighbour’s dog, and two children just didn’t help matters. Soon, everyone started arriving, each bringing little presents and decorations. They all helped to chip in, but she liked to have everything done her way, and she refused to sit down and rest until everything was up to her standards.
The door opened, and I stepped in for the first time since I had left for university two months earlier. Everyone cheered, there were balloons everywhere, party music was playing in the background and the two children screamed in excitement, running past me and into the front garden. I immediately walk over to her, wrapping my arms around her.
‘I love you mum.’