Past
Eleven years ago
“Good job Tommy” she says clapping her hands as he plays the last note.
“You are putting Mozart to shame” adds playfully as she kisses him on the forehead.
My mom is really beautiful with her messy brown hair & bright smile.
I look nothing like her though, but Tommy does & I have always felt jealous of him because of that.
“What about me ? I wanna learn it too mommy” I say whining
“Rose everyone knows that you suck at the piano” teases me Tom.
He is my brother so if feel like punching him at a constant rate, but that rate just spiked.
“Tom” says mom glaring at him then she turns to me with a soft smile
“Come here Rosie” she motions me to sit in her lap so I do then she wraps her arms around me squeezing tightly
“You don’t suck Rose. You are just not passionate about music just like I’m not passionate about washing the dishes” she says that with a laugh making me smile
“When you are passionate about something you give it your best & only if people see it in your eyes, it will enter their heart.”
“How can I have it then ?”
“Have what Rosie ?”she asks singing my name like she always does “passion ?” I nod.
“You already have it ?” I look at her perplexed so she adds
“It is an inborn quality, we all have it in our hearts. If we direct it towards the right thing, it will nourish. If not it will burn down & fades.”
“Then how will I know what I’m passionate about ?"
“I don’t know” she laughs when she sees my expression
“I’m not google honey. I’m not even sure that google would know the answer that one” I frown as she continues
“ I will tell you this, live everyday to the fullest. Try everything & anything. If you fail, try once more. But if you fail again then move on & try new things. Don’t force yourself on anything or anyone you are not passionate about.”
“Mom are you gonna teach me the bridge or what ?” interrupts Tom
“your brother is a brat, you know that ?” she whispers in my ear.
I get off her lap & head to the stairs leading to my room, but pause on the steps to watch her sitting on the piano stool besides Tom, guiding his hands with hers by delicate swift motions & I find myself jealous of the bond they have together.
A bond I could never by a part of.
He shared her art.
Her passion.
“I love you Rosie” she says with her back to me still hitting the right keys at the right times, moving her head with the rhythm & I find myself struggling to believe her words.
After all you shouldn’t force yourself on anything or anyone you aren’t passionate about.
Weren’t those her words ?
YOU ARE READING
The Girl With Hallucinations
Teen FictionRosie Um, you know what ? Let's not call her that. Rose Much better thank you Has PTSD Yes you read that right. Post traumatic stress disorder. Following a major breakdown her father is forced to send her to 'The Estalida Facility' Cause it's time. ...
