She is standing there, on the edge, trying to figure out things. She knows what she wants but how to get there, how to face the heavy crowd, the traffic lights. She can look right and left, like her mum told her years ago, when holding her hand, she would show her how to cross the street on her own.
Her mum’s hand left her side. Her body is buried in a cemetery on the North side. She tried many time to go and visit her. She would have loved to be able to sit down beside her grave, talk to her, tell her about her life, about how Amber’s hair look great in that pony tail, about how Denis eyes try to catch her when she stop at the coffee shop, taking a latte on her way to work. She would have loved to be like the heroines of her best of movies. But she could not do it.
She could only wait at the crossroad and turn back, thinking she could make it next time. Maybe she was not ready yet. She was not happy with herself, thinking she was losing time and soon connection would not exist anymore. She felt she could lose her twice.
When looking at photos, she could sense a pain inside her heart, a long, deep pain. She was not sure that she could recover from this departure. She was still so young. How can anyone grow up without this soft hand, this hand ready to let go and always there to reassure, to hold her tight? She could not believe that she would never see her mum again.
She is standing there, on the edge, trying to figure out things. She put her right foot on the road, lights just turned green. It was now or never. She could feel it. Her body started shaking. Fear. Pain. Or just plain happiness for the step she was about to make.