My home was magical until that Friday a month ago.
Fragrances of food wafted in from the kitchen bringing a smile on my face, birds sang from the trees praising the beauty of the garden, the clothes were clean, the beds warm, I had a father who loved to crack jokes, a mother who loved to laugh and there was music all day.
Now weeds cover most of the garden, the wilted plants no longer invite the birds, the house stinks buzzing with unspoken words, and the kitchen bin is crowded with half-eaten take-away packets.
Fear gnaws at my heart while I watch my silent father who keeps staring at the empty side of his cold bed, as though expecting someone to pop-in there at any moment.
God, return my mom, the fragrances, the warmth, the laughter; Please god, return the magic to my house.