Rehabilitated

My mother sighed heavily her voice rich with sadness as she stared at the fireplace. Her eyes welled up heavy with tears, they looked as though might burst any second now. I was hoping and praying to god that she will give me another chance, begging silently that the world will give me a second chance. I felt my arms get pinned down by two officers one on each arm. Their grip was painfully tight as though I might escape like I did from juvenile only a week ago. I was a criminal after all. My heart sunk. I’ll never get a chance to make things right. She had already called the cops. My eyes started to well up too. My mother looked up at me and said Raheem my dear son look and pointed at the fire greedily devouring the wood mercilessly to satisfy its never ending hunger. I lowered my gaze but not because she pointed at the fireplace but because I was ashamed to look at her sullen face that was once shining with beauty. I stared at the fire place. Its glow gave a comforting vibe to the old rugged living room. So beautiful she said staring at the fire. Did I detect the beginning of a smile on her lips? Perhaps she was remembering old memories. Happy memories like when the two of us would curl up together next to the fire on cold nights eating instant noodles and watching a months’ worth of Americas got talent on the VCR all night long sharing jokes and funny stories. Then again it could always be the shadows that were dancing around the ceiling and walls distorting my vision.