by Ann Atwood

Created on: January 07, 2009

THE LOST CHILD

She stood there at the kitchen stove, a woman who looked older than her 34 years. Her hair was disheveled and the dress she wore looked as if it hadn't been washed for many days. It didn't matter if she was going anywhere or not. Jamie was embarrassed by the way she looked, the long stringy hair that always looked greasy and dirty. On the few times he had gone to the grocery store with him he tried to distance himself from her. He was ashamed of the way she looked and even worse, that he was her son. Right now she was focused on making her son oatmeal for breakfast although it looked more like the porridge in "Oliver Twist". Jamie looked out of the corner of his eye, trying not to catch her attention. He never knew when one of her "temper tantrums" would lead to a beating. She was clever though because she never hurt him where others could see.

Sitting at kitchen table Jamie already knew that he couldn't get the "oatmeal" into his mouth, never the less eat it. He kept watch on the dark, grey sky that looked like snow would be coming soon. He could feel a bone chilling breeze coming in from leaks around the windows and door. It surrounded his feet, although he his socks pulled up to his knees.

"You better eat young man" his mother yelled at him in that sharp, raspy tempered voice he had become used to. Jamie fantasized about having a mother who would wrap him in a fuzzy thick blanket in order for him to warm up. But Jamie knew in his heart the difference between wanting something and getting it.

With his shoulders shrugged up in an effort to drown out those words that his mother spit out, no matter how he tried, he couldn't completely get rid of them. Even though he was so young Jamie could recognize the anger that actually covered up her own pain after her husband had left them a few years ago. His dad had been his best friend and Jamie couldn't understand how he could leave him with this woman who didn't act like a mother. His dad would never abuse emotionally or physically. Jamie, himself, had to swallow down the anger and hurt he felt about such a great toss. Head down again, looking at that gruel that was still sitting in front of him, now grey and glutenous, he yearned for a breakfast he could really eat. He would rather go hungry than eat it.

Jamie searched the sky again and became worried if there was a big snow storm the school would send the kids home early even if they had to walk. Although Jamie was afraid of his mother, he could never

• 1
• 2
• 3
• 4
• 5
• Next Page >>