Another anonymous

The afternoon had an odd tinge in its daylight. I walked in with a look of knowing something might be wrong, and pretending I didn't. You were sitting in a white wicker chair leaning your elbows on the glass porch table when every day before that you had always sat back into its dying blue cussion. I watched your panicked eyes drill the tops of your knees as if they provided some sort of answer, and i smiled. What could possibly be this bad that I had to drive an hour home to watch your mouth move when you told me?
You were holding my step-dad's hand, the one i had hated for years but who i had suddenly felt an ease with because of his upright position, structured with a sighing compassion.
I sat down and threw my feet up on the table. The chair felt unforgiving agaisnt my curved back, and still you wouldn't look at me, you didn't say a word.
So you are my mother, and our relationship was different in the year following your divorce. I walked you through your packs of cigarettes and the days you starved, laying back into the rocking chair creaking in the echos of the oversized chimney. I siffoned life through your fingertips when all you could mumble was death and sunken cries.
Four years later and all my stingy mind could focus on was you falling back into your 'no way out'.
Turns out it's cancer, turns out theres more to worry about than your husband cheating, then your kids failing. It turns out life is more important after all.