“What a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive.” That’s what mama said before she left us at the park that day. I remember my sister feeling confused, pleading for an explanation. I was seven and she was four.
After spending the last fourteen years being shuttled from one foster home to another, from city to town, town to country-side, and even spending a year in a disgusting attic with spider web covering every inch top to bottom before we scrubbed it clean ourselves, I still have no idea what mama’s last words meant.
I now live in the city, just a block from the park where we were abandoned. I have a low-paying job and today, I am walking my sister to the bus station where she will go off to college, something I never had the chance to do. I guess part of me was scared while another part of me was still hoping mama would show.