I’m going on two weeks of being home. Van lent me a phone that only has his number on it and told me to call when I’m ready to come back to the city. Every night when I doze off I remember pizza in my bed with him. He texts me every morning and I know it’s when he’s coming home from his nights out. I can imagine him in his hoodie with a cigarette hanging from his lips. “I think it’s time.” I look up to my mom who’s perched at her breakfast bar sipping on her green smoothie of blended organic spinach and collards. After a few weeks of soul searching everything is in a different light for me. I’ve never thought of my mother to be beautiful, but in her element right now she’s radiating. “Love you, Mom.” I wrap her up in a hug and try to avoid gagging from the aroma wafting off her smoothie. “I love you too, but it’s time for you to go back and chase your dreams.” “I know, Mom.”
