Mother Sweet

I will never tell you, and you will never lie, we were not meant to be, and so we died, mother sweet, I miss you so, come back to me, and it will be you and I again.

I grew up in a few homes when I was younger. I was just a kid, and all I wanted was a family. A family is something most kids take for granted, I never did. For a year, I'd stay in one place, and I felt like they would finally be my permanent family. I got excited at the thought of having a father, a brother and most of all, a mother. It was a cruel joke when I got forced into another home. I'd cry and scream, and I'd beg my 'family' not to let them take me, but they just waved me goodbye. I felt like I must not have been a good enough child, because so many families never wanted to keep me.

I finally got adopted at the age of 6, to the Thomas family. 'Adopted' was a totally new word to me, but it was exciting as well. I was finally told that I would stay with these new people. Mary and George would be my parents, and I loved them so much for it. My dad and I got along great, but not as much as my mother and I. She was such a great lady, always smiling. Even when Dad and I had a fight, she was there to mend it. They were God-Fearing Christians, this would prove to be very difficult for me later on in life.

A few weeks after adopting me, they took me aside.

"Dustin, we need to tell you a little bit about your past, so you won't be confused." My mom said, holding me on her lap. Dad was sitting in a chair to the side, just listening, and watching. I looked at Mom questioningly. "Well, about your mom, I mean, your birthmom...she was a very nice lady, but she was too young for you." I just nodded. For a few years, I didn't hear much else about her; I didn't hear anything at all, in fact. As a kid, I was always good. It was forceful goodness that I had forced upon myself in order to keep my parents. Yet these parents were here to stay, so the goodness gradually wore off, and so did my relationship with my dad.

My relationship with my mom was good as ever, but it seemed like my dad just didn't like me anymore. Why would he? At this point, I was now 15 years old, and had been to every school in the county that would take me- I got kicked out of every single one. I was getting in fights with students and teachers and even harassed a chubby kid for over $200 collectively. I was getting into drugs and drinking too, so my parents were really worried about me. I guess in the midst of my selfishness I didn't stop to realize it. Anyway, coming home from school oneday, I found my parents sitting, very sternly, in the living room. On the coffee table was a bong and a 10 sack of marijuana. I knew I was in for it.

At first, only my mom talked to me, like always, and my dad just sat back. Dad's face, however, kept getting redder and redder, until he finally exploded.

"DUSTIN!! What do you want to do with your life?! Do you want to end up like your birthparents?!" I could see my mom glare at Dad- apparently a secret had just been told.

"What about my birthparents?" I asked, genuinely curious. Dad laughed wryly.

"Dustin, your mom is in jail for illegal prostitution, and your dad is in a mental hospital of a drug overdose. You're going to end up just like one of them- either in jail or a mental institution." He said this in a rather defeated tone, and wearily rubbed his temples. I could almost feel his anxiety as he trekked to his bedroom, apparently finished with the topic at hand. Mom was staring in shock at me, I guess scared at what I would do next. I just shrugged and stood up. As I was walking to my room, my mom yelled after me, "Wait!". I turned to look at her.

"You still have a chance. Your half-brother, he's still good. He's in school right now." I was really surprised to hear this, but didn't dare show it. A half-brother? My mom handed me a picture of my birthmom, her new husband, and my half-brother. I took it to my room to stare at it. I felt myself growing angrier the more I looked at it. This kid only looked a few years younger than me. While I was going in and out of foster homes, my real mom was having another kid, and keeping it?! She could've gotten me! The courts said they tried to keep up with her, but she kept running away.

"She was running from me..." I murmured, as I dropped to my knees. I was still staring at the picture, and it was starting to get blurry. It had little droplets of water on it. I touched my face, they were coming from me. That night, for the first and last night in a long while, I cried myself to sleep. I dreamed about what life would be like with my real mom. I thought that everything would be so much better, because she would love me the way only a mother can. I didn't go to school the next day, or the day after that. I was finally expelled for too many absences, but I didn't care. I lay in bed, staring at the walls all day. I'd wake up, and I felt like there was no need to get out of bed.

Oneday, while bringing me my breakfast, Mary told me I had an old friend from school waiting for me. I didn't want to, but I dragged myself out of bed to see who it was. It was my best friend, Gunter. He had a wide smile on, the same one he had when he introduced me to weed for the first time. I knew this must be good, so I threw on some clothes and followed him. My mom was smiling, as if everything was okay now. I could only imagine what she'd say if she knew I wasn't running off to be the perfect son again.

Gunter took me to someone's house whom I'd never met. He simply went by 'M', and I only guessed at what that meant. M took us to his room and gave us each a lightbulb. I stared at him, thinking it must be a joke. Then Gunter nudged my arm, "like this, man." He took off the screw of the bulb and put a lighter to the other end. I saw smoke building within the bulb itself, and Gunter put his lips to the opening and sucked it in, holding it in for a few moments. I followed suit with my lightbulb. After a few hits, I felt calmer, and more relaxed. I felt happy too. I smiled giddily and asked M what it was.

"This is called Opium, my man. This stuff is all natural. It's like weed, but stronger." Ismiled wider. It definately did have the calming effect weed did, but it was different, and more hard-hitting. After that day, I loved opium, and it became my drug of choice.

For a long time, I just drifted along life. Half the time, I don't even think I knew who I was. I had seizures frequently, but not the rapid, whole-body, jerking seizures. They were the kind that were the most dangerous and at the same time, the least noticeable. They're called frontal-lobe seizures. They happen in the front part of your brain and they made me feel like I wasn't existing even. I would be listening one second, and the next I was gone. At first, the doctors prescribed Ridalin for me, thinking I had trouble focusing. But when I got taken to the doctor, just a few days later, we found out the problem was much more severe.

"A WHAT?" My mom asked, her eyes brimming with tears.

"A tumor, Mrs. Thomas. It's a benign tumor, though, se he'll be fine. We just have to do a short procedure."

"What about side-effects?"

"A few. He won't be able to distinguish right from wrong. That is the part of the brain here," he gestured toward a picture of my brain on a white lighted board, "and this is where the tumor is. We can't avoid it." My mom shook her head and sat down next to me. She grabbed head protectively and kissed it. She was rubbing my hair and rocking me back and forth. I just stared at the floor. Part of me really wished that I wouldn't survive the surgery.

A few weeks later, I was sitting on a white bed. I felt scared, as surprising as it may seem. I was genuinely scared and looked frantically at my parents as they walked in. They wished me luck and I broke down.

"Mom! Don't let them cut me open! Please! I'm scared...am I going to be okay...?" I asked, calming down a bit. My mom started crying and Dad took her aside.

"You'll be fine, Dustin. You'll be just fine." He said, walking out of the room as the doctors came in. I was wheeled away to a big white room, and given laughing gas. The last image I saw before I plunged into darkness was the light above. When I woke up, my mom and dad were sitting in the chairs next to me. My mom jumped up immediately and handed me a little black dog.

"What is it?" I stared at it, still a little disoriented.

"It's a little dog I bought for you, You know, like a friend." My mom said. I looked at the t.v screen where a movie was starting. It said 'presented in Dolby Digital'. I smiled and pulled my new friend close.

"I'll name you Dolby..." I said, and drifted back to sleep. Unfortunately, this would not be my only time in the hospital.