She watches as the sun slowly lowered in the purple-hued sky. Another day is done, and she is alone.
Not really by choice. Not directly, anyway.
She blames the booze. She also blames her mother who introduced it to her before she was even in high school. And because of them both, she never saw graduation. Just endless days and months in rehab centers.
All for what?
To end up alone and penniless?
Today she buried her mother. Rather, a woman who gave birth to her. She never really cared for her. Not as much as she cared for those colored bottles that forever littered their home.
Mother died a drunk. That is what she’ll always be known for. Not as a woman who tried to raise a daughter by herself. Not as a woman who nursed sick and premature babies back to health. And certainly not as a woman who became the town’s first female mayor.
No, her life has and will always be linked to the bottle.
For years, she defied her mother. She never wanted to end up like her.
She stood over the wooden casket, deep in the hallowed earth, and allowed the tears to flow. Not for her mother. She was happy that the woman, the thorn in her side, was gone. No, she cried for herself. For her unborn child.
What kind of future will her baby have if her or his mother was a drunk?
Her eyes turn up to the darkening sky. Stars glittering among the dark purple clouds. A soft breeze sweeps over her like a whisper. Closing her eyes, she tilts her head to one side to listen to this whisper as if it has some great secret to share.
With her eyes still closed, she smiles.
She still has something that her mother no longer has…
Another chance of a new beginning.