The Days Without Mom

My toes slowly touched the icy cold floor, the chill seeping into my skin, making me shiver slightly. In front of me was the door to room 479, its nameplate prominently displayed above—a familiar marker in the long corridor filled with unfamiliar hospital rooms. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed the handle, trying to stay calm and avoid disturbing anyone around me. When the door opened, the scene inside shattered my heart: my mother lay at the far end of the room, her eyes closed, her face pale and wan.

I bolted toward her, forgetting to close the door, and dashed straight to her bed. Jumping onto the bed, I hugged her tightly as tears streamed uncontrollably down my face. I cried aloud, the sobs tearing at my throat, but my heart felt lighter. I didn't care if my crying disturbed others in the room; at that moment, all I needed was to cry, to release the anxiety that had built up over days. My mother was okay, and that was all that mattered to me.

But as days went by, I couldn't stay by her side forever. I had to go to school every day, and it was so hard. Without my mother, our house felt empty, and I was forced to learn independence. Those days were tough. Luckily, my neighbor, Sister Mi, stepped in like an older sibling. Whenever I was hungry, I would wander over to her house for a meal, and whenever I felt down, I'd sit and talk with her. Despite not being wealthy and having three younger siblings of her own, Sister Mi was always willing to share her meals and offer comforting words.

She had three younger brothers. The eldest was only in 8th grade. Yet every time I visited, the kids would cheer, pulling me into their games as if I were their second big brother after Sister Mi. At her house, I would laugh and play, forgetting my worries and the absence of my mother's warmth.

Even so, the longing for my mother remained, especially when it rained. Hearing the pattering of rain on the roof made my heart ache and my eyes sting with unshed tears. Seeing me sitting by the door, staring gloomily outside, Sister Mi would come over and sit beside me, her voice soft:

"You miss your mom, don't you?"

I nodded silently, unable to say much. My throat felt tight, and it took a while before I could whisper:

"I miss her so much. It's been over a week since I last saw her."

Sister Mi glanced at the raindrops trickling down the eaves and patted my shoulder gently.

"Oh, I remember Uncle Thuong at the end of the village said his family plans to visit your mom tomorrow. Maybe you can ask him at the market."

Hearing that, my heart leaped as if I'd found a light in the gray rain. But waiting until tomorrow seemed too long. Without hesitation, I sprang up and ran outside into the rain without even grabbing an umbrella. The cold raindrops splashed against my face, but I didn't feel cold—only warmth at the thought of seeing my mom again. My feet splashed through the wet ground, water spraying around as I ran so fast that the world seemed to blur around me.

It blurred so much that I felt like I was flying—or rather, slipping. My foot caught on a patch of moss, and I tumbled to the ground. The hard impact left me aching all over. I tried sitting up but felt the stinging pain across my body, my sore backside making it impossible to stand or even sit properly.

The noise I'd made must have piqued the curiosity of Sister Mi's siblings, as they rushed out to find me sprawled on the ground. They burst into laughter:

"Haha, look at you!"

Despite the exhaustion from my little rain adventure, their hearty laughter made me forget the pain. Van, the eldest and the cheekiest, wasn't one to miss out. He grabbed a handful of muddy water and flung it straight at me. The splash covered everyone in spots of mud. Under the rain, we all kept playing and teasing each other, lost in the fun and oblivious to time.

When the rain stopped, we switched to building little dams, digging waterholes, and then gleefully breaking them to watch the water gush out. The cool water and the simple joy of childhood washed away all my troubles. We played until we were utterly worn out, lying sprawled on the ground, panting heavily but filled with an indescribable joy.