After carrying our suitcases into the house, David went to get pizza. There was hardly anything in the house worth eating, some out of date even. This left me in the house by myself. As soon as he left, I began walking around, crying softly to myself, finally alone to mourn. They were gone. My mother and father. The two people that cared for me all my life and now they were gone. It just didn't seem real. I was here two weeks ago. They were here. Dad, pouring each of us a glass of wine. Mom, tossing the salad. All of smiles, happy to be in each other's company.
Standing in my old bedroom, it was clear that they never moved a thing. Trophies and ribbons from early years of soccer and science fairs still sat on the shelves. Old pictures of childhood friends remained on my dresser. The old purple rug I insisted on having for my 16th birthday still laid on the old wooden floor. All the same. They use to threaten to turn my room into a guest room and David's into a gym. But it never really happened. They never really did want us to move on and out. We were their precious angels. Apart of me never wanted to move out either. Not like David.
I crossed the hallway to his room. It still smelling like his cheap cologne he wore in high school. His old dresser still sat, the mirror dusty. The closet was practically empty except for a few old sweaters hanging up and boxes on the shelves. His room use to be filled with such life, now it was a bare cell. Continuing down the hall, I opened the last door on the right. My parents room. As soon as you open the door, all you see is bright gold. Sunlight would just dance around the room, bouncing off the sheets to the rug. Everything in there was bright.
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"Sarah, pst!" David crept into my room, whispering to me. "Sarah, wake up." I rolled over attempting to see my brother with the sunlight blinding me. He sat on the bed next to me. We were quite young then. I was still four, he was eleven. He took my hand and began pulling me out of bed. He put a finger over his lips to keep me from saying anything. Joy began to fill my body as I followed him down the stairs into the kitchen. Today was Mother's Day. Dad was at work on the stove, making eggs. David lifted me up so I could put bread in the toaster, then handed me a glass to fill with water. The three of us, hard at work, prepared the best breakfast for mom ever. Dad handed David the tray of food, warning him to walk slowly, he then picked up me in his arms and we followed David up the stairs down the hall.
I buried my head in my dad's neck to keep from giggling as we crept closer. My father opened the door and there was my mom, still asleep under her golden sheets. Dad sat me down on the bed where he slept and David walked around her side of the bed, still carrying the tray. Dad winked at me then began softly whispering, "Darling... Darling, the kids have something for you." My mom's eyes began to open slowly, but happily. She sat up and looked back and forth between David and I. "You made me breakfast? In bed!" I laughed and threw my hands in the air, "Happy Mother's Day, Mommy!" She grabbed me and tickled me, smothering me in little kisses. All four of us sat there, cartoons playing on the television, enjoying breakfast in bed, together.
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I'm not quite sure how long I stood there, watching their room. But it was only the sound of the front door opening and shutting that took my attention away. David's back. I slowly closed the door and began walking back down the hallway, my mind still on my parent's golden room. As I began walking down the stairs, I looked up to someone standing at the bottom. Someone staring at me. Someone that was not David.