"Mommy! Mommy! Wake up, I'm hungry."
This is my alarm clock. Every morning my 5 year old son, Elijah, wakes me up at the butt crack of dawn for food.
"Mommy! Mommmmmmmmmy!"
"Okay. Okay. I'm coming."
I roll over, slide my feet into my slippers, and stretch. Today is going to be a good day, I can feel it.
"Elijah, sweetie, go ahead and start getting ready. Today is your first day of big kid school!"
"Okay Mommy!"
My sweet Elijah is the only thing constant in my life. I'm a I dont know how old single mom living in government housing. I barely manage to pay my rent every month, and if it wasn't for government assistance, Elijah and I would have starved to death a long time ago.
Five years ago some good Samaritan pulled my very pregnant and unconscious body from the wreckage of my car in the river. They then called 911 and left. I woke up to not knowing who I am and being a brand new mom.
I like to think I have managed pretty darn well in light of everything. Since I couldn't remember my name and the car I wrecked was stolen, I got to pick my name. I went with Annabelle. It's pretty and old-timey. So here I am, Annabelle Scott, single mom, cartoonist for the local paper, and university student by night. What more could I ask for?