My mother woke me up

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“Mom, it is time; it is time!”

My mother looked at me, and she smiled, slowly at first, then a little more,
then a lot more. She put her finger to her mouth, and she shook her head
in an attempt to not wake me up. “Five years ago, a great American, in whose
symbolic shadow we stand, signed the emancipation proclamation. This momentous
decree came as a great beacon of light of hope to millions of negro slaves.”
My mother put her finger to her mouth as she nodded and smiled. I smiled. I
smiled wide, and my eyes started watering. My mother looked at my eyes, and
she smiled again. Tears started to fall down my cheeks.

My mother’s phone rang, and she turned to pick up the phone.

“Hello?” She said. “Yes.” Her voice was strong and steady. She hung up the
phone after getting the word, and stood up to leave the room. She looked at
me, a smile on her face. Her eyes were full of sadness. She turned to go,
but then she stopped. She looked back at me, and she smiled again. She
stepped back into the room, and looked back at me. She sat down at the table,
and she leaned over the table and placed her hand on my forehead. She then
came back over to me. She stood in front of me, to my right. She put her
hand on my forehead, to my left, and I nodded. She nodded her head. She
smiled again. She smiled a third time. My mother leaned over the table to
my left, to my right, and she touched my lips. She then kissed me on the
cheek, on my forehead, and my eyes. Finally, she looked down and kissed
me on the lips. She sat at the table, and I looked down where she sat.

“How was the trip?” My mother said.

“Long.” I said.

“Well, get your books and homework together.” My mother said. “And you get the
good books over there.” She pointed to my bookbag. I stood up from my place
at the table. My mother stood up from the chair, and she came over to me.
“You get the bad books next to the good books at the end of this day.” My
mother said, softly. She kissed the top of my head, and she turned and
walked out the door and into the bedroom. I walked over to my books, and I
sat down on my bed. I stood up from my bed on my feet, and I walked over
the table. My mother was sitting at the table, and she was reading a book.
I looked at her, and I smiled. I walked over and sat down again at the
desk. I looked at my books on the table, and I smiled. Then I took out
the books that were in my box of books–the good books–and I opened them,
and I looked at the first page of the first book in my box that came out.

“There are no good books in this box. All that are in this box are the bad
books.” I said. My mother looked at me, and I nodded. She smiled. She kissed
my forehead, and I nodded again. She then opened her first book, and she
closed it. She opened the second book, and she closed it. She looked at
me, and I continued to nod my head. She opened the third book, and she
closed it. Finally, she looked down, and she smiled. She glanced at her
watch; it was almost one o’clock in the afternoon. She looked at me, and she
nodded the head again.

“Mom, are you sure you don’t want to stay home?” I asked.

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