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I could feel her hands brushing through my hair. Softly touching my scalp as her fingers gently pulled out the knots, combing through and having the ends of my hair beautifully falling down over my shoulder. That feeling as her hand lifts up out of my hair and once again goes into the mess and pulls, with the fingertips touching my scalp. This feeling, repeated over and over again, was more than just relaxing. It was like floating on a cloud, as the wind gently carried me into a well deserved sleep. I loved it. I loved her... My mom.

"Mommy, why do birds make nests?"
"This is a strange question," she replied, with a slight grin on her face. "What makes you wonder about this?"
We were sitting outside in the garden. I was on the grass and my mom was sitting on a log, slightly above me doing my hair. The sun was out shining ever so brightly and we were sitting under the large maple tree, providing the much needed shade.
"Because," I began, looking up at the little green and blue bird weaving bits and pieces of twigs and grass into what will eventually become a comfy nest, "I just wanted to know why."
She giggles a little bit before replying.
"Well, if the little bird didn't make a nest, where would the eggs lay? Where would the birdies that pop out of the eggs live if they didn't have a nest? It's their home; like our house. It's where the mommy will feed her babies and where the daddy will sit with them and warm them up," she continued as she slowly weaved my hair. Plaiting in and out and in and out, as her hands moved with precise rhythm. "It's where all the love is stored, my dear."
"All of it mommy?"
"Okay," she chuckles a little. "Maybe not all of it, but most of it."

I loved having these talks with my mom. Me asking a question and her giving a strange but satisfying answer.

After this we walked back to the house to be met by the beautiful smell of freshly baked chocolate cake and a loving, 15 year old Az whisking away at what I'm guessing was supposed to be the icing on the top. It's the thought that counts right?
She turned her head to reveal the flour making her tanned brown skin look ghostly white - this was my sister after all.

"Hey mom!" She said wiping some of the chocolate batter off her cheek. "What's up my little Hazy sunshine? I'm loving the hair."
I ran up to her and gave her a huge hug.
"Thank you," I replied, looking up at her with a huge toothy grin on my face, "Mommy did it for me."

I turned my head to face my mom, but noticed that she wasn't there anymore. Oh well.

"That's cool!" Az exclaimed. "Let me finish making my cake and then we can all enjoy it together."

I left her at that. I didn't ask what the cake was for, but of course I was thinking it. I then skipped to my bedroom, but passing my mom's room, I could hear the loud sobbing.

This was not something that I wasn't used to. It all started after the death of my dad.

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