It was October of 1971 when her mother left. She was in third grade, a small 9-year-old. Usually, eggs and bacon or pancakes would wake up Laura, and she would run downstairs in her long-johns and a t-shirt to give Momma a good morning kiss. Her bare feet bouncing on the wood flooring, a song of creaking floorboards – it was as if the house perked up, shifted into a home when Laura was awake. It was their favorite time of the day, their mornings together. Her daddy always went into work at the factory early – he had been promoted to shift manager recently so his days kept getting longer and longer.

Laura was the second youngest of four kids. Her younger brother was barely one, but constantly everywhere. Before the baby, Charles, was born, Laura was fascinated by the bump attached to her mother’s stomach. Her oldest sibling, Frannie, once dared Laura to eat a bowl of watermelon seeds, and afterwards told Laura “Now you’re growing a watermelon. Mom is going to be so mad.” Laura went to her mother in tears; barely audible while wailing “I don’t want a water-mewon in my bewwy!” It took hours for her to calm down.

This morning was different, though. Laura found herself shaken awake by her mom, the void of smelling breakfast confusing her. “What’s wrong?” she mumbled to her mom, trying to figure out who could be hurt. She had older siblings, but they would still be asleep down the hall; that left either Gramma or Pappy, or her dad. “Nothing baby, it’s just time to wake up for school.” her mom said, stroking Laura’s tangled hair. Laura watched her mom leave her bedroom, still trying to rub the sleep out of her eyes. The Sand Man must have come last night, her momma would tell her when she had a hard time waking up. Not today.

When Laura was ready for school, she went downstairs unsure of what to expect. She kept trying to figure out what felt so wrong; she could feel it in the air, maybe even see it – almost like when it’s so hot out that you can see the air shaking. She discovered when she was fourteen what the word for that is – tension. Her momma handed her a granola bar for breakfast and sat her down at the table. “Hurry up and eat this, baby, don’t want you late for school now do we?” Silently, Laura sat at the table and picked all the chocolate chips out of her breakfast. Her siblings were already leaving for school, taking their granolas to go. They were in high school, so class started earlier than hers did in elementary school.

She could hear her mother pacing from the bathroom to her parents' bedroom. A pause, a thud, a faint “Shit!” Laura ate the chocolate chips and threw the rest of the granola away, then proceeded to the bathroom to brush her teeth. “Momma? Where’s my toothbrush?”

“What? Oh! Hang on a sec!”

Laura’s mother poked her head around the door frame and handed her toothbrush to her. “Mind handing me mine, babe?” Laura did what she asked without thinking twice. In hindsight, it makes sense.

Laura’s mother dragged her to the door to send her off to school, kissing her all over her face before giving her a hug. Laura giggled – she loved when her mom would do that. It was part of their morning routine, and Laura thought maybe things would be normal soon. Worry nagged at the back of her mind though, something didn’t seem right. She realized a few days later that it was her momma’s bright orange Jetliner suitcase spying on them from the living room. She hopped down the porch steps and stopped when she noticed a station wagon parked in their driveway. She couldn’t see who the driver was – she was too short, the car was too far away, and the glare cut off the windows. Must be one of Momma’s girlfriends, she thought, maybe she’s going to brunch or something. Laura proceeded towards the pavement and on to school. Half way down her block, she heard her name being called. “Laura! Laura baby!” She turned to see her mom running down the pavement towards her. When her mom reached her, they hugged for an unusual amount of time – or at least it felt that way to Laura. “I couldn’t remember if I told you I loved you, baby. Did I? Because I do, I love you so much.” Laura smiled, “I love you too, Momma. I’ll see you when I get home.” Laura stepped back from her mother, and continued on to school. But her mother wasn’t there when she got home from school. She wouldn’t be home for eight more years.