Sizzling

Susan sat in the sizzling sun thinking of her child who had died not long ago. He had walked down the street smoking a crack pipe and crossed the tracks on Mission Street. The train ran him down from behind. Who would have thought a 19 year old boy would die so tragically. Susan thought of him daily and thought his ghost visited her regularly.

Susan would play a game with balloons. She would blow up a balloon and she would call her son by name to come play with her. The balloon would move whenever she would tell him and in whatever direction she asked him to.

Her loneliness was felt by everyone in the family, and they would hear her cry herself to sleep, even after many years later. Susan tried to get on with her life, but her son consumed her thoughts both day and night.

Susan would call out to her son in the middle of the night and she could swear he would sit at her bedside and talk to her often. Those visits would not ease her soul, if anything it agitated her even more. She could not let him move on, and his soul begged her to just let him go.

One day, Susan came home from work and thought she saw her son sitting on the couch. She ran inside full of glee, only to find the indentation in the couch with no one sitting there. Her son left her once again.

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