I’m Coming Home
Serenity flowed from all aspects of the beach as Audrey walked along the shore, hand in hand with her mother. Her father trailed behind, watching his wife and daughter leave footprints in the sand. Audrey was five. The wind whipped her hair against her pale cheeks. Her dad yelled for them to turn around; he held up a camera. They smiled. They were always smiling. 
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I guess mom is sick. We’ve been sitting in this waiting room for a half an hour now, and I don’t know why we’re here. All the other people in the room are skinny and pale; some of them don’t even have hair. They’re wearing bandanas on their heads. She doesn’t look anything like them, why does she have to come here? 
The doctor lets us into the room, and I sit down next to mom in a little padded chair. The doctor keeps talking, but he uses really big words. 
 “We’ve spotted it early, there should be no problem.” 
She nods, and smiles.
“I understand.”
The doctors say they need a picture of mom to put up on a bulletin board. They said I could be in it. They gave us a copy.
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Mom just had her first surgery. She was in the hospital for a couple of days, and she finally came home. Dad lets me bring her breakfast and dinner up to her in her room, and I sit with her while she eats it. She says she doesn’t know what daddy would do without my help.  
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The water sparkled. The rays of sun bounced off the waves, making them have to shade their eyes. Audrey picked up a piece of a seashell, and held it up to her mother.  She smiled, and put it in a back that was wrapped around her wrist.
“Smile!” 
They turn, with the sun at their backs. Their silhouettes lay across the sand, long and thin. It was a moment trapped in time. Never again would the sun fall at the same exact spot on the horizon. They sat on the beach in silence, no worlds spoken. But love radiated from each breath taken, and every wave that crashed onto the shore.
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Mom is sick again. This time it’s not just in her body. She got really skinny. She has doctors’ appointments almost every week. She’s lying in her bed, trying to take a nap.
“Audrey, can you close the blinds for me? The sun’s too bright.”
I walk over and shut the blinds for her. I lay on her bed, and she kisses my forehead. Dad sneaks in the door. 
“Just checkin’ in on my two favorite girls,” he smiles. Mom smiles. We’re all still smiling. 
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Mom is getting another surgery. I’m sitting in her hospital bed right next to her; Dad is sitting in a chair across the room. He has a camera, and takes a picture of the two of us. I smile and my mom cringes. 
“You’re beautiful,” he says, and kisses her forehead. She laughs.
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The sand was soft and cool, parting as they stepped on it, moving in between their toes. They dug a hole near the water and stood in it, and waited for the water to come fill it up. The camera flashed again. It was a picture of the three of them, taken by a random passerby. They had built a sandcastle, with seashells as windows and a flag sticking out off the top of it. Audrey was sitting on her knees, her cheeks rosy and her top two teeth missing. Her mom and dad stood behind her, hand in hand. 
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I hate everything about New York. Since my mom died, my dad’s work transferred us to downtown Manhattan. Our apartment is so small. I’m sitting in the front seat of the truck with my dad, driving to a dump. Some of my mom’s old stuff was sitting in the back.
“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” I say. I try to sound calm. My dad looks over at me with his pale blue eyes. 
“There’s no room for it Audrey, you know that. What are we gonna do with it all anyways?” He said it so simply- like it didn’t even bother him.
“That doesn’t mean you just get rid of it. What’s next? Are you gonna get rid of anything that reminds you of mom?” I couldn’t even look at him. The rest of the car ride was silent.
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Continuing to walk, they spotted the cottage. It wasn’t big at all, only a few rooms. There was one for Audrey, one for her parents, and kitchen, and a living room with a couch and a small little television, but on the deck was her favorite spot. Another snapshot. Audrey and her mom. They were standing on the porch stairs with their hands on the railings. Birds flew over their head, the sun was setting. The clouds that shaded  the sky were fluffy and white. 
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New York is at quiet. Its 11:00 at night and people are still loud and obnoxious. There’s always some car alarm going off, or glass breaking somewhere in the distance. My dad walked into my room and sat down on my bed.
“Mom would hate this place.” I looked up at him.
“I know.” And then there was silence. He knew it, and I knew it. Why were we here then? My mom really would have hated it. She would laugh and say that people didn’t appreciate the beauty of silence these days. It’s true. 
“It’s not like I had a choice in the matter, Audrey. You know that my work made us move here.” But you see, the thing is… if he had had the choice, I’m not sure if he would have chosen any differently.
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A hammock was spread across the shorter part of the deck, hanging from two wooden beams. On it laid two blue pillows striped with purple. The deck was screened in, and had a little wicker table sitting right at the center. On the table there were three glasses of iced tea. Audrey was eight years old. She and her mother were lying on the hammock, and her father was sitting across from them on a wicker chair. This was their last time coming to the cottage. They knew about Audrey’s mother’s sickness. The last picture they took was of Audrey and her mom, each lying on one side of the hammock. They smiled. Her mom was still smiling.
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Sitting up in my room, I hear my dad walk in the apartment. I heard his footsteps on the wood floor, and his keys get tossed onto the counter.
“Audrey, come down here.” I stood up and walked down the stairs.
“Hey dad. What’s for dinner?” I had expected him to come home with pizza or Chinese food, something that we usually had on a Friday night, but was surprised to see nothing sitting on the kitchen table. He sat down, looking exhausted.
“So, work is transferring me again…” He looked up at me, and I sighed. 
“Where are we going now?” I didn’t mean to sound rude, but I’m sure I did.
“Remember that cottage we used to go to with your mother? The one on the beach?” My eyes perked up. I waited for him to continue.
“Well there’s a branch of my company about twenty minutes from there. Audrey, we’re going home.”
I’m Coming Home, 11-12, p. 1