I'm guessing that it was normal for her to be a little out of place, but being more careful was out of the question, I would have even had no problem of her possibly chopping a piece of her fingers away, it would have still been more normal to me than her asking me to lay down the cutleries on the table, mother had never asked me to place anything on the Dinning table, she believed that I was never aware of how perfect the place needs to be, but today, Today of all times she trusted me enough to do it.
Today, the day I would normally be the most clumsy was the day she put her trust in me, quite stupid of her if you think about it initially, and for a moment there I felt like telling her that her judgement sucked, but then again she was my mother, and that would have been the end of my little life, the only life I've lived thus far, the small times I've spent in this so called world, this world that had recently striped me of the only happiness I knew. The same life which I knew would disappoint me soon after, but the very life which I would always defend, the same life which made me live without my own uncle.
"How unfair", were my mothers exact words, and for a moment I thought that she was referring to the sudden death of her brother, I felt as if my old mother had been brought back to me, I wanted to give her a huge hug, tell her that everything was going to be okay at the end, I wanted to shield her from the pain she must have been going through. And for a little while, I felt proud to be her son, but to my surprise, I was proven wrong once again, all she was referring too was how badly her stew came out, I looked at her looking at her ruined creation, she had this content anger about herself, yet this anger never showed when truly needed. She gave me the weirdest of emotions that day, as she walked towards me, she told me to get her a clean handkerchief, as her son I gratefully obliged.
As I took the stairs going straight to my mothers room, a room which was the last one down the hall, she had always been the kind to keep things to herself, thus explaining her choice of room. It was a very quite and scarry room, everything was always in its place, she was a perfectionist when it comes to her things, she never left anything out of place. This made things hard for us as kids, she was able to tell when anyone had entered her room, and trust me being caught out by her wasn't something to look forward too. She had always had a firm hand especially when it came to her room. And being her son made it even worse.
When I got into her room everything seemed weird, as much as I tried to stay on my lane her journal kept calling me, it had a brown cover written in glitter, mother never informed us of ever owning a diary let alone a journal, she's always been well put together to be able to have anything to note down in that journal. But then she's never told me most things about herself. Like why she always preferred sleeping on the left side of her bed even though she had the whole bed to herself alone, still she never took towards sleeping near the right side, it seemed weird to me. Whenever I tried to mention this, she would give me a look which would make me forget my name in an instance.
As I got closer to the Journal I could hear mother screaming at me for going through her stuff, but I still never took heed to the warning, I took the journal and attempted to sit down, but the door started to open. As I panicky tried to put the journal away thinking of the grave mistake I've landed myself into and a pink sweater appeared, and to gods grace it wasn't mother, but only one person in my family ever wore pink. We never got along, since I've known her, we have never seen eye-to-eye about anything, both of us being in moms room wasn't an exception either. It was non other than my sister, and yes she wasn't a very easy person to get along with nor did she try to be, she had always made it her mission to get me into the most stickiest positions she could think off, and still at this position we both knew she was the only one from both of us who would land in trouble. And yet she still had her usual annoying attitude towards me.
Before I could think of anything at the moment mother called me to her aid, she always believed in being punctual, and my recent behaviour wasn't something to be proud of either, she stared at me for a minute before taking the handkerchief away from then uttered the words I had been longing to her from her for the longest of times she said, " I know what happened is hard for you to handle, but you know that being sad isn't what your uncle would've wanted you to do right". As she held her soft pale and perfectly shaped hands on my cheek.