“I don’t want you g-g-going anywhere after school. Don’t ask questions. Just c-c-come home now.” I immediately heard the shaky hesitation in my mother’s soft voice, like she just stopped crying. The line disconnected, but I still sat in the leather bus seat, my phone pressed against my ear. Something bad happened; I can feel it. I knew I shouldn’t have had that argument with her, this morning. Stupid, Anna, stupid. As the bus continued to chug down the paved road, I gripped the zipper of my sweater, my cold fingers digging into the thin metal.

In what seemed like seconds, the bus came to a halt, and I stumbled outside, towards my house. Once I reached the front door, I stood there for a couple of seconds, my firm hand resting on the doorknob. This was supposed to be a happy day; one where I skipped into my house and kissed my mother on the cheek, like always. But the second I began to walk inside, I sensed that things were anything but good.

My mother was bent over on the couch, her head in her hands. She looked up and I felt a tug at my heart when I saw her dark brown eyes blurred by thick tears. Her lips trembled as they opened.

“I lost my job.”

Those four croaked words hit me like a crisp slap across the cheek. At that moment, my whole body felt like a thin string that was about to be snapped in two. As my muscles became weak and lost their ability to hold me up, I collapsed onto my mother’s lap.

“No, this can’t be happening,” I said, quietly at first, trying hard not to cry. “They can’t do this to you.” I took a long breath, yet when I let it out, tears started flowing from my eyes, like a heavy waterfall. “They know you have me. You have a daughter.” I wept into my mother’s chest, which was rising and falling faster than usual. Eventually, our cries died down, as we remained frozen in the embrace that almost lasted an hour.

Eventually, I pulled away and dragged myself to my bedroom, without looking back once. I couldn’t bear seeing my mother’s face: her dried- up tears, her weak eyes, her pale cheeks. I threw myself onto my bed and buried my head in the warm pillow.

What if we won’t have any money for food or clothing, or even this house? What if we have to go live in shelters or worse…the streets? Then, what if we die from starvation and dehydration? We won’t survive.

Slowly, I felt my eyelids rest against my pillow and I fell into a deep sleep.

In the days that past, the house was quiet. There was always a dead silence that sent goose bumps trickling up my arm. My mom lay in her bed all morning and all night, refusing to go outside. I always caught her crying on the phone, her voice slightly cracking, when she told everyone about her unemployment. At least she talked to them. Ever since that dreaded day, we didn’t talk much anymore. From time to time, she glanced in my direction, but nothing more than that. I couldn’t seem to recognize her. She was like a ghost wandering through an unfamiliar city: lost.
One day, however, I awoke to the smell of warm pancakes: the warm, fluffy ones that melted in my mouth. Something is definitely up. I quickly scrambled into the kitchen and nearly fell back on my heels when I saw my mother. She was dressed in her favorite nightgown and her hair looked perfectly combed. Her cheeks were a normal rosy red color and her eyes glistened in the light. She looks…happy?





















“Hello, young lady!” she exclaimed and walked over to me. “Good morning.” Her sharp, Polish-accent seemed almost unfamiliar to me, now. She gave me a big hug and kissed me on the cheek. She’s talking to me and hugging me?

“Uh, Mom,” I began, reluctantly, “are you okay?” I pulled away, my eyebrows raised to the top of my wrinkled forehead.

“Yes, of course. Let’s go shopping today, how ‘bout it?” my mother skipped to the back of the kitchen and started flipping the darkening pancakes.

“Sure, but Mom…?” My mother’s head whipped around at the sound of my high pitch.

“Yes, honey?”

“You can’t ignore what happened. Maybe we should…”

“Honey, take a seat.” My mother took my arm and motioned for me to sit down next to her at the kitchen table. She took a deep breath and looked straight into my eyes. “I’m sorry that I have been so down lately. It’s just…” She paused for a second. “…I’ve been working at my job for almost twenty- five years. I didn’t know they would let me go, like that.” Tears began to gather in her eyes. “But things will get better, okay? We just have to take it one day at a time. We will be okay.”

Those last four words circled around my brain more than ten times, until they finally managed to sink in.

We will be okay.