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Chapter 22 - sonder

Taylor's POV

One year ago,

"Taylor, please." 

I remembered walking away. I remembered his strong gentle arms wrapping around my waist. I remembered trying to get away. Trying my best not to fall back. 

Who did those arms belong to again? 

"Good Morning Sweetheart!" My Mom's voice echoed through the kitchen as I smelled scrambled eggs. 

"Hey Mom." I chuckled. 

"Here," she set a plate of scrambled eggs on the kitchen island. 

"From Gordon Ramsey himself." she winked.

"Just his recipe Mom." I chuckled gratefully. 

The magic of New York makes me a whole new person. I feel like I could be anyone I wanted to be. I just felt free.

I just knew that when my converse stepped on those New York streets I would be a completely new person and I was happy with myself that I am. 

The hustle and bustle of the streets awoken a new side to me. Brooklyn was beautiful in it's own twisted way. Everyone has something going on.

They say "everyone is fighting a battle you know nothing about, be kind, always.". And it was true. You never really know how someone is or what they've been through.

The person in overalls and long blonde hair you just walked passed by could be on her way home from the hospital in grief as the journey there wasn't alone, but the journey home was. 

Or, the fact that you didn't notice the small sigh when the girl with a flower crown atop her head crossed the street safely, but didn't look both ways before she did, and the sigh meant something else entirely.

However, that man that sat at the table next to you in a restaurant in a business suit stressfully yelling into his phone however smiled down at the bill despite the triple digits could just have had his first-born a day ago. 

There is a strange knowledge we all have where we know that everything isn't about you specifically, but as the holder of this life, living it, it seems as though precisely that. But for someone else, it seems exactly that for them. 

"Taylor?" 

...

"Taylor?"

...

"TAYLOR?" my mother's voice awoke me with a jolt. 

"Mom, yes?"

Her eyes moved down to my right hand, the fingers in a holding position while the metal fork was on the table. Tears brimmed her red eyes, her jaw tightened forcing them to not overflow. 

"Sorry, mom, I was um, lost in thought." I stammered before picking up the fork. 

"You seem to be lost in thought a lot these days......ever since the accident." she whispered the last part. 

"Yeah, the car accident really did a number on me." I chuckled trying to stop her from crying, again. 

She turned around to face that pan on the stove, clearly to obstruct her face from my point of view.

"Mom," I whispered before standing up and hugging her small frame. 

Her feeble arms wrapped around my torso. The brunette hair I inherited from her was clipped up in a tight bun.