All my life, my mother and I had a PERFECT PRE-CHRISTMAS TRADITION, every December 20th.
He asked me
to save him.
I moved away from the bench, away from that enormous Hershey's chocolate bar which suddenly seemed like a trap.
How could Mom have told him about it? He had hijacked our sacred ritual to scam me!
But was I really the kind of person to let him die because I was angry? Because I had decided he didn't deserve my help?
Was I really the type
no one to let him die
Because I was angry?
"I need time to think."
I turned away and left.
"I will wait here every day for your answer. Please, don't turn your back on me. I will make it up to you, I promise."
I didn't turn around. I didn't know if I had the courage to help her, or what kind of person that would make me, but Mom thought I was strong enough to make that decision.
It wouldn't be easy, but I'll try to do what needs to be done.
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