I miss my mom. I miss fighting about curfew or arguing about money. I miss coming home late and keeping her up at night. I miss eating the last ice cream and pissing her off about it. I miss leaving no toilet paper and hogging the living room TV. I miss texting her. Having the conversations that keep you up at night. The ones that alter your decisions and leave imprints for a lifetime. I miss waking up to the smell of coffee or the news channel on. I especially miss Sundays. Random trips to the mall, or long hours at the grocery store. I miss walking the streets of our hometown and cruising through life on a highway. It went that fast. I see our life flash in clips. Clips of the moments I took advantage of. The clips speed. They go 90 on a 20 while I’m on the passenger side. The moments feel like I’m being chased by the cops. The anxiety or the rush of being chased feels like every day to me. Like I’m in constant trouble for not cherishing the highway enough. When my mom died, my life sped. It sped so fast that it still feels like I’m being chased. It started going faster than all the years I had with her around and that’s what scares me most. The constant chase of getting back to her and never knowing when is like breaking curfew and never coming home.