'A white 1990 Toyota Corolla.'

That is the name of the car parked in front of me, it looks blocky with a smooth edge, and I can see a few rust patches on the car body. My head turns to my mom beside me, she looks at me with a smile on her face, as she unlocks the passenger door with a key, and walks to the driver side to unlock the door. I reach for the door handle, lifting it to open the door but it did nothing. The door mechanism is unresponsive, I try again and fail yet again.

I see my mom is in the driver seat crawl up to the passenger side and open it from inside. The door open slightly then I place my hand on the top of it, pulling the door open and enter the car then close the door beside me.

My mom wiggles her keys in the ignition as she tries to start the car, she let out a groan of frustration after a couple tries before the car engine finally rev up.

The car wheels turn with all kind of noise that a car shouldn't have when moving. My gaze proceeds to the side-view mirror, and I can see the trail of black smoke that the exhaust blow out.

When we pass the hospital gate, my head turns to my mom, "Mom, where is your blue Prius?"

"I sold it because I like this car better." Her smile is unfazed by my question as she focuses on the road right ahead.

I know my mom is lying, she sell it to cover my medical expense, I've seen the medical bill before and ask around the hospital. Presumably keeping someone alive for three years cost a lot of money. From, IV drip that cost one hundred dollars each and just staying at the hospital cost ten thousand dollars or more per day.

I guess my mom had to sacrifice something in her life to take care of my unconscious body, but I wonder how much did she sacrifice, financially and emotionally? Does the sacrifice both my parents made was so damn big that it forced my father to run away? If I were my past self, would I be feeling guilty for putting them through this or be upset at the people who cause this in the first place, the one who took Daisie away from me?

I guess I will never know, maybe sometime in the future when my emotions come back. My gaze gravitates to my mom, "Mom, do you hate dad for leaving?"

That question certainly did something to her smile as her lips flatten while still keeping her eyes on the roads, "Little Bumbee..."

'Little Bumbee' that is the nickname my parent call me sometimes, they say that when I was born, the doctor wraps me in black cloth with yellow stripes. I was small and chubby when my mom saw me in that wrap for the first time, she instantly calls me her Little Bumblebee, and as time passes by 'Little Bumblebee' is a bit of a mouthful to call, so she shortened it to 'Little Bumbee.'

"Hate is a strong word. I don't hate him, a little angry, yes. He left us when we need him the most, but I don't blame him—Andre, your father loves you, no matter what. He maybe doesn't have the strongest will to go through what happens, but I know him, he is a kind man, a good man, a loving husband, a good father to you, and I love him."

"So, if he comes back one day, stupid it may sound, I would welcome him with open arms after I slap his face." Mom let out a chuckle right near the end.

After hearing my mother answer, my clenched hand relaxes without me seeing it. I look out at the changing scenery beside me, noticing a lot of store pass by my window, but a little flower shop grabs my attention because of a beautiful daisy flower blossom at the storefront.

"Mom, can we visit... Daisie grave first before we head home?"

I notice in the side mirror that my mom is looking at me with worried eyes then back at the road again, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah... can we stop by a flower shop first? I want to grab a couple of flower for her."

"Okay, honey." She takes a left turn at the upcoming intersection.

*

We take a long drive to the cemetery, the sun sunk lower in the sky, the light of day is draining away, and giving way to the velvety dark of night.

With a couple of beautiful daisies in my hand, I follow my mom as she guides me to Daisie grave. My heart tightened as I saw the gravestone in front of me, I place a hand against my chest, feeling the hard beating of my heart. My mom looks at me with worried eyes, she quickly closes in my side and places her hand on my chest beside my own while her other hand rests on my back.

"Are you okay, do you need to go back to the hospital?"

"I'm okay..." I walk forward to Daisie's gravestone then fall to one knee, and placing a flower on the grass in front of it.

My mom takes a couple of steps back to give me some privacy then I whisper to the gravestone, "How are you?"

"I'm sorry for being late."

"I'm sorry that I couldn't do anything that night... and I'm sorry again, I should feel something, but I can't or incapable. I don't know what's wrong with me, should I feel guilt, anger or sadness?" Without me noticing, my right-hand is clenching very hard.

"Do you hate me? Or disappointed at me? Do you even love me after I fail to protect you? Is everything my fault? Do I only cause pain to the people around me? Will you love me if we meet again?" I feel a sharp pain on my palm, my eyes look down and see my clench fist.

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I move my fingers away from my palm, and several small cuts can be seen on it then a trickle of blood drip down from my hand onto the grass below. My mom notices the dripping blood, she took out a napkin, and place it over my cuts.

"What happened?"

"I don't know."

She let out a sigh. "Let's go... I don't think you are ready to visit her yet. I shouldn't bring you here."

"It's okay... it's just a small cut on my palm."

"No, your hurt. Maybe not physically, but emotionally. Let's go home..." After my gaze meets my mom painful expression, I nodded my head, agreeing to her, and follow her back to the car.

As I walk toward the car with my mom beside me, the wind brush against the hanging leaves on the trees and the grass surrounding me. The sound of leaves shambling, and the grass being brush against the breeze calm my mind as it travels into my ears.

The well-kept grass field and the beautiful aged trees, this place has such a peaceful scenery,

My head glance behind me at the gravestone, "See you later."

*

It takes us an hour of drive to arrive at my neighborhood.

The car turns to the right at the intersection, and my eyes meet with a familiar cul-de-sac. I can see the sidewalk I used to take every day on my bicycle, and the neighboring house surrounding my own. I remember the friendly neighbor that I have known for years and the memories I make with Daisie at this very cul-de-sac.

When the car drives up the driveway, I was expecting the same two-story house that I lived in, but what I find is a worn-down version of it. The bright color paint has been washed down over the years, the grass has slightly overgrown, and dust is visible on the window glass pane. The roof gutters are pack filled with dead leaves and other unimaginable.

"Here we are! Home sweet home." My mom turns off the engine and exits the car.

I get out from my side of the vehicle and follow my mom to the front door. Instead of my mom having trouble unlocking the door, this time with a single turn of the key, it open, but as she pushes the door, it stuck halfway, and the hinge lets out a rusty squeak. The high pitch creak causes my face contorts away from the source. My mom slams the door a couple of time with her shoulder before she kicks it open then she pulls back her out of place hair with her hand.

"Home sweet home." She says with an enthusiastic smile on her face.

No matter how much she says that line, it is still not the same home as I remember it. I enter the house after my mom enters and the first thing I notice is the interior look entirely the same as before except for a few messes here and there. My eyes darted to the red envelopes on the coffee table with an overdue stamp on it, my mom quickly walks to it and carry away the letters.

I walk past the stairs and notice my Highschool Diploma is hanging on the wall. I also find a picture of my mom receiving the Diploma on my behalf. The looks on mom's face that day, it must be hard when you have to be the one who accepts it instead of your child.

"Are you hungry? I have some leftover from last night." My mom carries letters and tosses it into an open drawer; she then forces it to close with her strength.

"Sure." I walk to the dining table and take a seat.

My mom walks to the fridge and takes out two bowls of wrap foods then she brings it to the microwave then reheat it. After a couple of minutes, waiting for the food to rewarm, the microwave let out a beep, and my mom opens it. The strong smell of spices lingers under my nose, spicy and sweet. She places the bowls in front of me, a bowl of white rice and chicken curry.

Then she places an empty plate in front of me, serving the rice first, she then pours the thick curry over rice with bit pieces of chicken and curry leaves scattered on the top.

"Bon Appetit."

I grab a spoon and take a spoonful of that delicious curry rice into my mouth. The taste of spicy curry mix with sweet rice remain on my taste buds, it is so delicious that it resurfaces the memories of my mom past cooking, she always knows what to cook, and never once her cooking taste awful.

I chow down the food while she watches me with gladness, I guess she misses someone eating her food again or just misses having me around. She rests her chin against her hands and time goes by fast.

Afterward, I help bring the dirty dishes to the kitchen sink where I go to wash them, but my mom stops me. "Let me do that, you just rest."

"I have been resting for three years, please mom. Let me do it."

Her face show worried, "If you say so, just don't overwork yourself."

"I never heard of someone overwork themselves doing dishes." I joke, even though I didn't find the line funny, but it did garner a few chuckles from my mom.

As I wash the dirty dishes, the drain suddenly clogs itself, and the murky water flood the sink. My mom let out a groan beside me after she notices the clogs sink. "The sink clog up again."

"Does this happen often?"

"Yeah... Sometimes." My mom opens the cabinet underneath the sink and takes out a plunger. I move away, and she starts trying to pump out the block drain.

I notice the frustration on mom's face as she tries to unblock the pipe, but fail, I place my hand on her shoulder and try to calm her down.

"Mom, don't worry let me fix it."

"You don't know anything about plumbing."

"I knew a few things, and don't worry. I will take care of it."

"If you say so... My Little Bumbee."

"Mom, there is another thing I want to talk to you about."

"What is it?"

"I'm thinking of getting a job at a supermarket or gas station nearby."

"What? Why?" My mom's eyes widen in surprise.

"I saw the overdue bill on the table earlier, and I want to help you pay all of it. You have been taking care of me for so long and sacrificed so much for me. Let me help you, mom."

"You just got out of the hospital. I don't want you getting hurt again."

"Don't worry I won't get hurt, I promise you. It just a normal shift job, nothing will happen to me."

She let out a sigh. "Now, I know where your stubbornness comes from, and no matter what I say, you won't take no for an answer."

The corners of my mom's lip turn up while her worried gaze falls on me.

"You are my mom, you know me very well."

"Please take care of your health. Okay, my little Bumbee?"

"I will."

Afterward, my mom places a warm kiss on my forehead, and head upstairs probably to get some sleep, as the clock's small hand tick to ten. "Good night, my little Bumbee."

"Good night, mom." I wave goodbye to her, as she climbs the stairs to the second floor.