Tears run. Face reddens. Heart drops. I trudge through the dark hallway while the rain continues to fall. My sister intersects me, her head hung low, her hair disheveled. Empty and sullen, we step foot outside. The car door slams shut, removing any last hope in my tarnished mind. The blue uniform, darkened by the rain, approaches me. My saturated eyes struggle to focus on her innocent face, the face that kept me joyous all my life. 

Standing tall, she grabs my trembling hands. Her presence sends warmth throughout my paralyzed body, a warmth that I so desperately desire. As she pulls away, her soft touch hardens, her bright smile shuts, her contagious laugh fades. When the car escapes my vision, my fists clench. I should have convinced her to stay. Now, my mother is gone; gone to work; gone to help; gone to war.

Soft whines envelop the house while I falter into my room. Falling backward onto my stiff bed, all seems lost. As my brain thumps back and forth within my frail skull, my eyes blindly gaze upwards. The once pure ceiling crumbles with worrisome visions. All cheerful memories disintegrate, like a marshmallow left alone in a raging fire. I no longer feel powerful; I no longer feel protected; I no longer feel a sense of belonging. 

Tears rush down my face, soaking the once comforting blankets. I can not help but picture my mother on the frontlines, standing face-to-face with the deadly virus. My sorrows bring fear and fears bring sorrow. As my mental strength weakens, schoolwork piles up. Without a guiding force, I lose motivation; I lose attentiveness; I lose effort. 

When class starts, I put this emotion on hold. Behind the screen, I create a blissful facade. On the outside, my face lightens, my smile widens, and my laugh rejuvenates. The room radiates like a newly lit candle, and my voice finds its will. But once the camera loses its life, I lose mine.

What did I do to deserve this?

I never knew the virus could affect me, but it ruins me. Both physically and mentally, I am alone. I miss her comforting presence and warm embrace, her eternal love and constant laughter, her boundless strength and undivided support. Keeping her safe is all that matters. She must return home. I need her more than ever. 

Waking the next morning, I lumber upstairs. My head peers slightly past the door frame, expecting a soothing good morning, but receiving nothing. The empty cup of tea, undone bed, and haunting silence startle me. Hand trembling, I reach deep into my pocket, grab my phone, and immediately check my messages. My eyes widen. A red heart, under my mother’s name, waits for me patiently. I toss out my own rotted heart, replacing it with this one. My mother saves me once again. 

I often take for granted the role my mother plays in my life. I fail to express my gratitude for her because I expect her to always be there when needed. As humans, we fail to understand the importance of what we have, until it slips away. We must cherish life’s gifts; we must keep our connections; we must express our love. As my mother, an intensive care nurse, makes sacrifices for us, we must make sacrifices for her. Together, we can fight this uphill battle and protect our loved ones, before they slip away.