Mistakes are made on a daily basis. Everyone does them whether they choose to acknowledge it or not. Some of us refuse the idea that they could be wrong, shutting it out of their mind and hoping people will work around it. Other people see their mistakes and beat themselves up about it when others have already forgotten its existence. No matter, mistakes hit us all. It's how we choose to deal with it that truly matters.
The wolf ran faster through the woods, the villager getting closer and closer. No matter how hard the wolf ran, giving all his strength and speed, the villager was still easily able to catch up. The wolf had an idea, he took a sharp turn to the left. The wolf turned its head and saw the villager sail by, a confused look on his face. The wolf lost them.
"The wolf then, made his way back home and rested in his bed in the corner. He was safe. For now."
"Mommy, what happened to the villager?" my son, Weston asked, clutching his teddy bear.
"Nobody knows," I shrugged, setting the book back on the shelf. "Some say he's still running through the woods, searching for the lonely wolf."
"I hope he never finds him." Weston said.
I tucked him in and kissed his forehead goodnight. I then made my way out of the room as I watched his eyes start to close as he drifted off to sleep.
After making sure he was asleep, I made my way back to my room. I could feel a bit of mild exhaustion hitting me. Why was I feeling so tired? Perhaps from the long day. Yeah, that had to be it.
I sat on my bed and took my shoes off, then my socks. My feet felt so tired, I needed to rub them. I miss when my husband used to do it for me. Why did he have to leave us so soon?
I thought about my husband for a few moments, remembering how he made me feel, the words he'd speak to my rough days to make them a little brighter. The smile on his face when he looked at the son I gave him, for the first time. I still remember the twinkle in his eyes when we first met. I knew he was in love with me but now, knowing he's gone, it just hurt more that I'd never get to see the smile again.
I still remember the day he passed. I remember like it was just yesterday. I received a call from the police station, there had been a car accident. He was driving home from work and he hit a truck head-on. The police say he was driving on the wrong side of the road but I refused to believe it. He'd always talked about doing something like this but I always managed to talk him out of it. This time I was too late.
I beat myself up just thinking about him being gone every day.
A sudden knock at the door startled me awake from my daydream, or more like nightmare. The door squeaked open and there stood my son. He looked scared.
"Mommy, there's a monster in my closet." He looked so scared and so serious, it hurt me a little to see.
I made my way back to his room, he following close behind. He crawled into bed and I opened up his closet and looked around. I was about to turn back to him and say it was empty when I saw someone that looked exactly like my soon staring back at me, curled up in the corner of the closet.
"There's something in my bed," the boy whispered.
Slowly, I turned back to the bed to find my son, only it was really him. He was taller and much older and skinnier. I made my way over to him and brushed my hand over his long and grown out hair. I looked into his sunken blue eyes that reminded me so much of his father.
"I love you, son." I whispered, my voice choked up by tears.
The boy crept out of the closet. "Can I please go home, Mrs. Peterson?" the boy asked with fear making his voice tremble.
I turned to him slowly, my hand still caressing my son's face. "What do you mean, this is your home!" I said, my voice twisting into a cackle.
The boy began to cry and the grin on my face only grew wider.
The wolf ran faster through the woods, the villager getting closer and closer. No matter how hard the wolf ran, giving all his strength and speed, the villager was still easily able to catch up. The wolf had an idea, he took a sharp turn to the left. The wolf turned its head and saw the villager sail by, a confused look on his face. The wolf lost them.
"The wolf then, made his way back home and rested in his bed in the corner. He was safe. For now."
"Mommy, what happened to the villager?" my son, Weston asked, clutching his teddy bear.
"Nobody knows," I shrugged, setting the book back on the shelf. "Some say he's still running through the woods, searching for the lonely wolf."
"I hope he never finds him." Weston said.
I tucked him in and kissed his forehead goodnight. I then made my way out of the room as I watched his eyes start to close as he drifted off to sleep.
After making sure he was asleep, I made my way back to my room. I could feel a bit of mild exhaustion hitting me. Why was I feeling so tired? Perhaps from the long day. Yeah, that had to be it.
I sat on my bed and took my shoes off, then my socks. My feet felt so tired, I needed to rub them. I miss when my husband used to do it for me. Why did he have to leave us so soon?
I thought about my husband for a few moments, remembering how he made me feel, the words he'd speak to my rough days to make them a little brighter. The smile on his face when he looked at the son I gave him, for the first time. I still remember the twinkle in his eyes when we first met. I knew he was in love with me but now, knowing he's gone, it just hurt more that I'd never get to see the smile again.
I still remember the day he passed. I remember like it was just yesterday. I received a call from the police station, there had been a car accident. He was driving home from work and he hit a truck head-on. The police say he was driving on the wrong side of the road but I refused to believe it. He'd always talked about doing something like this but I always managed to talk him out of it. This time I was too late.
I beat myself up just thinking about him being gone every day.
A sudden knock at the door startled me awake from my daydream, or more like nightmare. The door squeaked open and there stood my son. He looked scared.
"Mommy, there's a monster in my closet." He looked so scared and so serious, it hurt me a little to see.
I made my way back to his room, he following close behind. He crawled into bed and I opened up his closet and looked around. I was about to turn back to him and say it was empty when I saw someone that looked exactly like my soon staring back at me, curled up in the corner of the closet.
"There's something in my bed," the boy whispered.
Slowly, I turned back to the bed to find my son, only it was really him. He was taller and much older and skinnier. I made my way over to him and brushed my hand over his long and grown out hair. I looked into his sunken blue eyes that reminded me so much of his father.
"I love you, son." I whispered, my voice choked up by tears.
The boy crept out of the closet. "Can I please go home, Mrs. Peterson?" the boy asked with fear making his voice tremble.
I turned to him slowly, my hand still caressing my son's face. "What do you mean, this is your home!" I said, my voice twisting into a cackle.
The boy began to cry and the grin on my face only grew wider.
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