There were times when I woke up in the early morning before the sun rises. I lay there on my futon, staring at the ceiling. I didn�t know why I do this. Maybe I was trying to erase everything from my mind. Maybe I was trying to think of something new. The answer had yet to come to me.

I lay there and floated away in my head.

Suddenly, my bedroom door slid open. I looked up and see my Mother staring at me with big eyes. I didn�t know if another storm was coming or not.

�Mother?� I asked. She stood there looking as stable as she let herself appear to be. I think her medication was wearing off. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Her hand trembled as she gripped on the door frame. I blinked.

�Mother, it�s three in the morning. What�s wrong?� I asked. She tried to speak again, but her voice cracked into squeaks. It�s as if she learning how to talk, but can�t quite get it. The words were just stuck in her mouth. I sat up on my futon.

�Talk to me,� I said in a calm voice. �What do you want? Is it what you tried to tell me months back? What is on your mind? I can�t help you if you won�t talk to me.� She drew her mouth closed. I watched as her hand let go of the frame. As if in a daze, she walked forward to my futon. Mother collapsed onto the futon and broke down into tears. She wailed aloud against my damp, cotton sheets. The cloth muzzled her cries, but I knew that she was torn up so badly from the inside and didn�t know how to fix herself. All she could do was struggle with everything until something did manage to come out. I reached forward and put my hand to her head.

�Shhh, it�s okay now,� I whispered. �You�re here with me now. Just take your time with the truth.� My mother continued weeping. She really wanted to tell me something. I wished I could figure out what.