It hasn’t stopped raining in three days.  Downstairs has big windows that make me feel like I’m sitting in the wet gloom.  It’s warm upstairs and there’s no visible rain.  I’ll stay up here.  I don’t really need to down, unless I want food.  Looking out on the world, all I feel is bare like the trees and somber like the sky’s shade of blue.
Mom hasn’t come home yet.  It’s been three days.  Mother Nature must be crying for me. 
She said she couldn’t handle it anymore.  My dad is a coward.  My brother is a jerk.  She never said what she thought about me.  Too young-that’s the excuse.  “You can have another mom.  A better one” she said.  If my dad is the coward, then why did she leave?  If my brother is the jerk, then why did she leave?  If I’m so young, shouldn’t she stay?
Upstairs, I can stay in her bed.  Pretend she’ll jump out from behind the lurking dresser, “Boo! Did I scare you?!”  Yeah mom, I guess you win.
Nothing happens.  We all live in our own daze.  Amazing how one person can turn your world upside down, for better or for worse.  I’m tired.  Tired of waiting.  If we forget her, she might come back.  The kettle will never boil, if I sit there watching it.  So move on.  Tell people she went away for family matters out of town.  That’s not a lie.  Family matters.  What a deceiving phrase because obviously, to her family does not matter.  Maybe instead I’ll say she went away on business, but she always said being a mom was her job.  Does that mean I can’t say that either?  I just won’t say anything.  People don’t miss me right now.  Just like how I don’t miss mom.  My mantra: “I don’t miss her.”
“Don’t say that,” my dad pleads, “she just needs some time.  She was overwhelmed.” 
“I’ll always love her even though she left.  I think she’ll come back.  Its ok Sal, no one can resist you” said my brother with a shaky smile. 
And I said, “…” Nothing.  Nothing to say.  Mom said something else before she drove out of our perfect life.  She said, “You’ll be ok Sally.  You’re gonna be fine.  You’ll be fine.”
I have a new mantra: “I’m gonna be fine.”
I try not to think about the rain.  The rain is downstairs.  With each rain drop, I feel her presence slip farther and farther out of my heart.  Maybe when she finds her place, the rain will stop.  And by then hopefully the overwhelming sense of abandonment and lonesomeness will stop too.  So the rain will stop.  The sky will be happy again, and I’ll still be upstairs.  I’ll avoid those big windows trying to convince me to go out.  To avoid them, I’ll probably have to stop getting food.  That’s ok though, I’m not hungry anyways. 
I don’t miss her, and I’m gonna be fine.