I didn’t want to go back home.

I was born and raised in Alabama, but I had recently moved up north. I loved the new area and how it was winter with cold days and nights. I learned how to ski and enjoyed snow tubing, and when my mom asked me to come back home when my dad died, I didn’t want to go back home. Alabama was where I grew up, but it was no longer my home. After being gone for five years, I noticed a lot of changes in Birmingham, AL. Not all the changes were good, but it was still home. The apartment was a bit more rundown than I remembered, and the people were older, but that would have happened if I had stayed in Birmingham or moved on. I was talking to mom one afternoon, and she asked if I would take her to bingo. I knew the bingo she was talking about. I turned on the heat in the car and took her out. It was down to freezing, and I knew mom seldom went out of the house. She had her winter coat on, and was looking forward to a night of bingo. After two hours, I was bored, but mom was winning and she didn’t want to leave. I sat there, feeling the heat pouring from the air vents that was so hot I was sweating. Some of the older ladies were wearing sweaters, and I had to laugh. Mom pushed a bingo card over to me and told me to relax. Bingo would be over in an hour. I was ready to go home, but I didn’t want to go back to the apartment.

 

 

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