Dear Jayme. First Letter To Myself

Jayme 20 May 2008

I looked around the street corner. I was alone and I knew it, living on the streets taught me to keep my ears alert for any sudden noises, especially in my situation, a talent like that is equivalent to a gift from God.

The front porch light was turned on, Mum and Dad must be at home. I haven't been home in a while. 5 years in fact. I wonder how much has changed since I left, although I have sneaked back more than once, it still gives me a surge of adrenaline every time I see Mum in the kitchen baking. She has been baking more often now, her face older and her lines showing. Dad stayed in the living room, he seldom comes out for a breather now. I hate to admit it, but I miss them. At times when I'm still sober, when I'm not high, I recall and think of how life was like before I met Lisa and Joel.

Today, Mum was at the kitchen, baking as usual. I could smell the sugary sweetness wafting through the air from the open windows. I guessed she was baking her famous chocolate chipped muffins and creme caramel. I peered through the window, her dainty figure wasn't facing me but towards the sink. Suddenly, she turned to face the window. Instinctively, I ducked.

"Oh Jesus, Lord, please, find my son. Keep him safe and make sure he isn't harmed in anyway. Preserve him, Father. In Jesus name I pray, amen."

For the first time, I heard her pray. I sank to the ground and I started crying. My mother never prays. I cried harder, silent tears, because I realised that I've finally pushed her to the limit. However, I can't go back now, I owe Joel too much. I need to set things right first. I need to.