Traci Gray

I'm Right Where You Left Me

I’m seven years old, and I’m riding a merry-go-round. Lights and colors are flashing in my eyes, Scott Joplin’s The Entertainer is playing in my ears, and I look over at my mom on the cartoon horse next to me, and she’s laughing. This is the last good memory I have of my mom. Because after she took me to the South Coast Plaza that day, her illness got worse. My memories after that are of people in gowns, machine beeps, and the distinct smell of the hospital. I knew the smell well because my mom had been a nurse, and whenever she came home from work, the smell clung to her like I used to.