Valentina's POV
My mother lay in the same bed, the same tubes, the same beeping machines.
"Hi, Mama," I whispered.
I sat in the chair beside her as the plastic squeaked under my weight. I took her hand, the same hand that braided my hair when I was seven. The same hand that wiped my tears when I fell off my bike.
"I'm trying," I said. "I'm trying to be enough,” her chest rose and fell and the monitor beeped like it always did.
I looked at her face. Pale and peaceful like the one who danced in the kitchen while cooking dinner. The one who laughed with her whole body.
"I miss you," I said. "I miss your voice,I miss telling you about my day, I miss you telling me I'm being dramatic,” I laughed softly, but the sound was hollow.
I leaned closer and pressed my forehead to her hand. "I ma
