Etching Our Way (Broken Tracks 1)
“I think he’d love that, pumpkin.”
“Yay!”
“Why don’t you go and brush your teeth and wash up. I’ll be up in a minute to help you get dressed.”
I watch as she spins around and walks away, her doll dragging along the floor as she talks to herself.
“Clay?” I ask, turning back to him. “Try it this once and if you don’t like it, you don’t have to go again, okay?”
He worries his lip, looking away from me as his eyes squint in thought.
“Fine,” he relents, getting down off the stool and walking past me. “I’ll go, but I know I won’t like it!”
Waking up to Mom’s face hanging over the edge of my bed wasn’t how I envisioned my day starting out.
“Today’s the day!” she singsongs, pulling open my curtains and basking in the sunlight that streams through the window. I groan and pull the covers over my head, but she pulls them off me and onto the floor.
“Alright, I’m up.”
“Happy opening day!” She flings her arms wide before letting them drop back down to her sides. “Get dressed and meet me downstairs, I have a special breakfast prepared.”
She walks out of the room and I swing my legs over the side of the bed before padding to the bathroom, brushing my teeth and washing my face. A roll of nerves washes over me like the water running out of the taps and I look up into the mirror, staring into my chartreuse colored eyes.
I’ve never been able to distinguish exactly what color they prominently are but at this moment in time, they’re a strange bright green with yellow swirling through them like daffodils in a meadow. I look more alert than I feel and I guess that’s a good thing since I hardly slept last night.
I shake my head to rid it of my nervous thoughts, everything will be fine.
“Harmony!” Mom calls up the stairs and I chuckle, she’s more excited than I am.
“I’m coming, I’m coming!” I walk back into my room and pull on a striped, long-sleeved shirt and my denim overalls before making my way down to the feast that is spread out on the bright red table. “Jeez, are you feeding the five thousand?”
The table is covered with plates of bacon, pancakes, eggs, and an assortment of jams for our toast.
She chuckles and motions for me to sit down before sitting down in the seat next to me and pouring me a cup of coffee. “I thought I’d set the day up with a hearty breakfast.”
“Well, thank you, Mom,” I say sincerely, picking up two pancakes and pouring the syrup over them.
She smiles softly and butters a piece of toast, biting into it while reading her newspaper and leaving me to my thoughts.
We finish breakfast off in silence and I help her wash up the rest of the dishes, not able to take my mind off what I think today will be like. I can’t calm my mind from thinking the worst and I don’t know why I am because I like to see the best in every situation. Well, I do nowadays.
Before I know it, it’s time to leave. I slip on my navy-blue Chucks and pick my car keys up off the table in the entryway, swirling around and nearly bumping into Mom.
“Whoa! Don’t sneak up on me like that,” I say, hand on my chest, feeling my racing heart.
She swats at my arm. “Get out of your own head, missy, I was standing here the whole time.”
I roll my eyes, opening the door and walking out to get into my car. Mom locks up and skips down the path, climbing into the passenger side before I pull away and drive toward my studio. My studio; I still can’t believe it.
My hands tense around the steering wheel as we near the tunnel.
“Stop fretting, today will be everything you’ve ever wanted—and more,” she says.
My muscles relax at the sound of her voice and I know that today is going to be okay. Even seeing the studio in front of me as I park gives me a sense of peace and I stop to let the calm wash over me, ridding myself of any negative energy before I step inside. I don’t want to bring that into my creative space.
When I’m here it isn’t about me—it’s about the children.
I get out of the car, giving Mom a beaming grin that she returns as we walk up the path, the sign hanging above the door reading, “Willow Arts.” Mom questioned me on