Our Hill of Stars

My eyes open and bright lights blind them. These aren’t the kind of lights that signal you are dead, but the kind that have an intimidating presence. Am I on the verge of death? The smell of bleach and sanitizer assure me I am still alive. A woman in teal scrubs rushes over and say something. I don’t respond. Hands touch me and I realize I’m in a hospital. Last I remember I was in the car with my mom. Where is she? I sit up and look around despite the angry look on the nurses face. I try to get out of bed when I feel a pressure keeping me here. They don’t want me to go. I take a sharp breath and say “where is she?” “The woman with you?” The nurse asks. “Yes. Where is my mom?” A solemn look covers what I can see of her face. Whatever comes out of her mouth will not be good. We were on our way to go to the mall and have a girls day. Once a month my mom and I would have girls day and just go and prioritize time for the two of us. Today was not meant to be. The nurse breaks my train of thought as she says, “you and your mother were in an accident. Another car hit you guys on the driver side and your mother was killed instantly. If it makes you feel better it would have been painless.” Everything else she says resembles an adult talking in Charlie Brown. Nothing makes sense. Words are meaningless at this point. Where do I go from here? My dad was never in the picture and now my mom is gone. This makes me an orphan. Truly alone in this world. I look up at the nurse and ask , “where do I go?” “Adelaide, We have located an aunt in Maine who will take you.” Immediately I know who is taking me. My Aunt Stella has a daughter my age and a son 5 years older. Last I knew he had moved out. At least I will have a friend my age. Kat and I are both 17 years old. Her older brother, Mark, has moved out. I don’t know if he lives near by them or not. Maybe Kat has had better luck obtaining a drivers license. If not, I will have to figure out a way to get out of the house. The following day a social worker brings me to my home and tells me to pack what I need. I fill my suitcase with clothes and I grab some photos. When I leave, will I be allowed back. Is this going to be the last time I see my home? The last time I look at the pink wall covered in posters of celebrities I think are cute. I peal a photo off of the wall from a lake trip with my mom. Her sky blue eyes full of joy. Eyes that I will never see again. Whenever I broach the topic of a funeral, the social worker changes the subject. Maybe I am not meant to say good bye. They probably think they are protecting me. At this point I am alone and there isn’t much they can do to change that. I rummage through some photos and find one from our vacation 4 years ago to Maine. Mom used to write names, ages and dates in the back. A tear slips down my face knowing I will never have her write Adalaide or Ada on the back of a photo again. Aunt Stella and mom have the same sky blue eyes, but have opposite hair colors. My mother and I have raven hair whereas Aunt Stella and Kat have hair the same sandy blonde hair. Both mom and Aunt Stella have tall athletic builds. I glance in the mirror and know I did not get her build. I am only 5ft 2 in tall and will never be as tall as my mom. My life has changed and it will never be the same. The social worker comes in and tells me I need to hurry up. Quickly I throw everything I can into my suitcases. Good bye old room. Good bye home. Good bye to everything I know. As I climb into the vehicle a tear slips down my cheek. This is the end of life as I knew it and the start of something new. Kat and I got along when we were younger. Will we still get along? Will I make new friends? There is so much left to the unknown. We pull up to an airport. The social worker then says, “I will get you on the plane and your aunt will pick you up from the airport.” I nod my head and do what I am told. As I go trough TSA, everything begins to blur together. It’s not long before I board a plane bound for Maine. Mom should be here. This should be a vacation. Her and I should be arguing over who gets the window seat. She always let me have the window seat. Instead of mom sitting beside me a man I don’t know sits besides me who smells like hot dogs. I wish I could hug her one more time as her coconut vanilla perfume fills my surroundings. This is truly good bye. Next time my feet touch the sand, I will be in vacationland. A place that is not home, but I will have to learn to call it home. My mom is gone and I am alone. Will aunt Stella see me as a burden? She is probably distraught at the whole situation. Aunt Stella lost her sister and gained an additional daughter in one day. Surely this is not what she wanted. Will she even want me? Maine is a place where people visit, but who actually lives there? Last time I was in Maine I was barely a woman. I had just started to wear a bra and the same was with Kat. Her brother, Mark, was rarely around. At the time he was 18 and free. Constantly chasing girls and off with his friends. My cousins are becoming my siblings. This time I won’t leave. There home will become my home. I close my eyes and rest them. My eyes jolt open as the wheels touch the ground. I rub them as I try to orient myself. This is it. My new life begins. The plane drive to the terminal and stops. The man who smells like hot dogs gets up and moves as quickly as he can to get out of the plane. I am relieved that he is gone and pray that I don’t smell like hot dogs from sitting next to him. Like cattle we slowly move in a line to get off the plane. The faster people attempt to move, the slower it goes. In time we will all be off. Some will go enjoy there destination, others are home and some scurry to the next terminal and hope they catch the next plane in time. If only I could take a plane and hug my mom one more time. One more time just to tell her how much I love her. Has reality even began to set in or am I still in shock? All I know is I need to find baggage claim and then Aunt Stella. Part of me wonders if she will even be here. The social worker has done nothing to be assured I arrive at my designated location. How does she know I don’t intend to go home with some one who will sell my body to the highest bidder? I could go and join the circus and she wouldn’t know. What if I never boarded the plane? Shouldn’t that be considered neglect? I am almost 18 and they just wanted to ship me off to whoever would take me. It must be impossible to find a placement for a 17 year old. People want babies and cute kids. No one wants the baggage that comes with a 17 year old orphan. No hope of the parents to get there act together and reclaim the child. No one would want me. Aunt Stella probably knows that. Still I wonder if she wants me. This airport is much smaller than the one back home. As I get to baggage claim I see some blonde lady grabbing my bags. My legs carry me as fast as I can. No one is taking my stuff. Especially not the photos of my mom. The woman turns around and I see my mother in her eyes. Her sky blue eyes had cried earlier but they smile as they see me. Arms wrap around me in the strongest embrace I have felt in awhile. As she holds me close I feel my shoulder become wet. My face feels wet. Tears stream from both of our eyes as I look up to meet here. Aunt Stella was similar in height to my mom. Both of them were almost 6ft tall. If I close my eyes tight enough maybe I can pretend this is a hug from my mom instead of Aunt Stella. The smell isn’t right. Mom smelled of coconut and vanilla while Aunt Stella smells like the ocean and sunscreen. Slowly she lets go of me and asks “how was your flight? How many bags do you have?” “I have 3 bags. It’s all we had at home and all I could take. The flight was okay.” I say “I’m sorry about your mom. She will be missed.” “Thank you.” I say as I look to the floor in hopes to compose myself.