It's Two-Thirty AM and I Wanna Go Home

It's Two-Thirty AM and I Wanna Go Home - student project

Every night, I pray that Mama won’t turn into a monster. No, I don’t want new toys. No, I don’t want more desserts. No, I don’t want snow days or less homework or even to have Daddy back because none of that matters and only this matters, only for Mama to stay Mama. To stay sweet and warm and smelling of lilac and loving me and doing all the things she should be doing like not smelling of stale beer or spitting when she talks. But I already hear the music and I hear her laughing obnoxiously into the phone and smell the cigarettes and now the room is spinning and did I forget to pray? I must have. I hate these nights where Mama isn’t Mama. The nights where she’s sloppy and wobbly. And loud. The nights where she’s so loud I can’t sleep and so loud the neighbors can’t sleep and they look at me with pity in their eyes like I’m a stray puppy on the side of the road with mangled fur and no home. 

 

But the red and blue lights are now flashing and all the eyes in the windows are staring at the spectacle that is my life and I really don’t want to be in this moment like a stray puppy with no home. I tell the tall man with the hat that I have a home. 

 

-Yes, sir, that’s my Mama but she's not always like this.

-No, she doesn’t do this that often. 

-We’re fine, sir, really. I’ll get her to sleep, I promise, you’ll see. 

 

I say let’s just go home, Mama, and I think the monster’s getting tired because we do. We go home to the place that smells like dust and beer and stale cigarettes, the place where no one is staring at me except Little Miss Muffy with her one green eye but Little Muffy is a doll so it’s okay that she stares. So I curl up with her and Mama in the silence even though Mama smells. And I pray that the monster doesn’t come back while I’m sleeping and that I hear my alarm in the morning and don’t forget to make my lunch. I pray twice for good measure.

 

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