Prompt: Discuss your favorite place to get lost. (This question was written by U.Va. students who live in one of our residential colleges, Brown College at Monroe Hill.)
When I'm in my mom's arms, time stops, cruelty ends, and life slows down like rich chocolate rippling down a fountain. The world consists of the present- the now. In my mom's arms, I am lost in a world of safety. Her velvety skin serves as a shield and her herbal scent a reminder that she will always be there.
I used to visit her arms as often as I could. When my hamster died, when my dad left for work, or when the mornings were too harsh to confront, I'd scramble to her and let a few minutes-or were they hours- slip by.
In my mom's arms, I wanted to hold on and fit in even forever. However, nothing lasts forever. Shortly after I began high school, Mom suffered from severe depression. Of course, by then, I was too big to fit within her two, skinny arms. Her arms had fallen to the side. Though my mom has recovered from depression in the past year, I know there is no way I can ever recover the same gesture of love.
I will settle for less. I am satisfied though, because today, I cut myself with a razor. My blood oozed out of the deep but narrow cut, and I called for Mom when the blood trickled out the stream. Mom came with a band-aid. Wrapping my finger gently, she hugged it tightly. I secretly imagined being the finger, lost in her protection one last time.
Please critique! Thanksssssssssssss!
When I'm in my mom's arms, time stops, cruelty ends, and life slows down like rich chocolate rippling down a fountain. The world consists of the present- the now. In my mom's arms, I am lost in a world of safety. Her velvety skin serves as a shield and her herbal scent a reminder that she will always be there.
I used to visit her arms as often as I could. When my hamster died, when my dad left for work, or when the mornings were too harsh to confront, I'd scramble to her and let a few minutes-or were they hours- slip by.
In my mom's arms, I wanted to hold on and fit in even forever. However, nothing lasts forever. Shortly after I began high school, Mom suffered from severe depression. Of course, by then, I was too big to fit within her two, skinny arms. Her arms had fallen to the side. Though my mom has recovered from depression in the past year, I know there is no way I can ever recover the same gesture of love.
I will settle for less. I am satisfied though, because today, I cut myself with a razor. My blood oozed out of the deep but narrow cut, and I called for Mom when the blood trickled out the stream. Mom came with a band-aid. Wrapping my finger gently, she hugged it tightly. I secretly imagined being the finger, lost in her protection one last time.
Please critique! Thanksssssssssssss!
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