The First Chapter Of "Becoming Adalyn"

Chapter One
Today is Tuesday. I hate Tuesdays. Tuesday is the day that I go to the assisted living home to visit my mother. I look at the clock, I have not moved from the same spot for ten minutes now. I look back into the mirror that is hanging beside my front door. I continue to stare at the person staring back at me. I feel like my own reflection is a stranger. I reach my hand to my forehead to push a stray piece of strawberry blonde hair back behind my ear. I can’t even remember the last time I smiled. A real genuine smile, not one of the half smiles that I plaster on my face every day to make everyone around me think that I am doing just fine. My reality is that I am not doing fine. Not even a little. Every morning is a huge struggle to make myself roll over and get out of bed. I hate my existence. It hurts just to breathe, it is painful just to be alive.

But today is Tuesday and I have to go visit my mom. Not that she would even realize if I missed a week. She would have no clue whether I was there or not. That is not just me being overly cynical either, it is a fact. Most days she can barely remember her own name, let alone who I am. My mother got diagnosed officially with Alzheimer’s Disease a year ago. Though, I have been slowly losing her for years now. My father could not handle having the woman he loves more than anything in this world right in front of him and forever gone all in the same moments. It has completely crushed him. Hence the reason he is no longer living in this small mountain town of Hayweather and living in New York. He told me he needs the distraction of being in a big city to relieve his mind and heart from his ambigious loss. While I can understand his feelings, I am essentially left without a mother or a father. As well as being an only child, I am alone. However, I am also the only family my mother has around. It takes everything I have left in me not to go back to my room, change into my pajamas and crawl back into my bed. Reluctantly I get in my car and start driving to Haywoods assited living home.

I really hate Tuesdays. I do not hate my mom or visiting and spending time with her. What I hate is the fact that she is not at all my mom anymore. My mom was always my best friend. She was always full of life, spunk, always had a smile on her face. She was one of those people who could brighten a room the moment she stepped into it. If you were having a bad day she was always ready with a corny joke to make you smile and a batch of cookies. Anytime I would get sick, she would take care of and nurture me back to health like I was five years old again. Now, she is being taken care of by a team of doctors and nurses, just as if she was a child again herself. In some ways I suppose she does have the mindset of a child. On a daily basis she has to be reminded of things such as who and where she is, not to talk to strangers, “Don’t eat that cookie, Dorothy, you are allergic to nuts dear.” or “Stay where you are dear, I don’t want you wandering the halls and getting lost.” These are the things that put my stomach in knots and leave my pillow wet with my lonely and angry tears. Now, every time I go to see her I am reminded of how much I really miss her.