Injustice.
by Alondra Cruz
I feel it in the way my anxiety increases as I wait for her to get home from work every night.
Disregarding the fact that I prefer to be an early sleeper, I wait until I hear the engine of the van turn off, signaling her arrival.
Followed shortly by the barking from Cookie, and the beeps from the key code being entered.
Her keys sound loud and sporadic, jingling against her gigantic reusable coffee cup. Against my will, my lips begin to curl upward as I hear her cooing at Cookie,
“ya llegue! Pipis cookie? Quieres hacer pipis?”
The anxiety in my chest comes to a sudden stop,
because regardless of what happened that day,
I know I have my mom here with me again.
And If I’m somewhat dressed,
I get up to kiss her cheek hello,
and wish her a goodnight as Cookie knows to follow her to her room to sleep.
And so I finally sleep.