The news effected all of us, but it hit Mom the hardest.

I think we all knew the truth deep down, but Mom never wanted to believe it. Not when she started losing weight. Not when the morning sickness disappeared. Not even when she lost her appetite. The reality of it all didn't sink in until the doctor told her what we all knew, and even then she refused to believe the truth.

Mom was never the same after she lost the baby. We were all disappointed and hurt, but Mom took the loss to a personal level. I remember hearing her sobs late at night, the words she would wail to my father when they thought I was asleep.

"I'm a failure," Mom would mutter through her tears. "I failed."

"Honey, no," Dad would counter in an attempt to console her. "This is not your fault. It is not your fault. Don't take this out on yourself. The doctor told us it would be a risk."

After the news, Mom lived in a daze. It was like watching time move in slow motion. She would be fine one minute, then she would stop what she was doing and walk into the living room. She'd sit in the rocking chair and just rock back and forth for what felt like hours. Then she would look up, as if remembering she had something to do. She'd pull herself out of the chair, go back to what she was doing before, and the cycle would start all over again.

Purpose is an important thing for a person to have. Without it, what are we even doing here? I think that's what happened to my mother. Her purpose was to do just that—mother. Then she lost a baby, and that hit home. She thought she'd failed her purpose, and that hurt her more than anything in this world ever could.

I knew Mom's depression took a toll on Dad. Watching the person you love slowly fade into a stranger can't be easy at all. He never stopped loving her, though. He was her rock, and she was his.

It was confusing for me, what happened to Mom. I was ten, so I understood what was happening at the same time I didn't. Mom was sad, and it was up to me to make things better. Only, I never could. So, in a way, I've always felt like I failed, too.

Things stayed that way for a few years. Mom would fade in and out of reality, it seemed. She'd be the person she once was, and then she'd be a statue, an emotionless stranger. I thought things would go back to normal. That was the one thing that always kept me going as I watched my mother rock herself back and forth in that stupid rocking chair. It's going to be okay, I would think. Normal. Soon, everything will be normal.

I couldn't have been more wrong. Instead, everything changed all over again. It was like the world was playing a cruel joke on me, giving me false hope just so it could see my face when my life turned upside down.

When I was thirteen, I woke one Saturday morning and went through my usual routine, getting ready for the day. I went downstairs to check on Mom, who would always be in the rocking chair. She spent more time in that chair than she spent doing anything else.

That morning, I didn't find my mom in the chair. In her place, I found a note.

That was the exact moment my world fell apart, lying in pieces at my feet. To this day, I'm still trying to pick them up.

Maybe one day I'll actually be able to.

• • •

Officially, we've been moved in for a week.

For the first time in what feels like forever, our boxes are unpacked. I have a room that is supposed to be mine for the long run, which means I get to take my things out of their boxes. I don't know how to feel as I place my belongings in my new room one by one, so I choose not to feel anything at all.

Dad says this is forever, but knowing him it will only be temporary. The first thing he sees that reminds him of Mom will ruin it, and then we'll be off to the next house. That's just how things work between the two of us.

Only, we've never left Texas before. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe this really is forever.

Stop being stupid, I tell myself. Nothing is forever.

"Kiddo!" I hear Dad call from down the stairs. I am in my room, staring at the paint samples Dad left for me and wondering if it even matters which color I choose. "Come eat!"

Dinner is Chinese takeout tonight. Dad has managed to takeover the responsibilities of both parents, but cooking is something he's never been able to get the hang of. That was the job reserved only for Mom.

I find myself thinking maybe I should start cooking. It's something I can do to think of Mom. Thinking of her only reminds me of the day I lost her forever, and I suddenly discard the terrible idea.

I push my plate away from me slightly. Suddenly, I've lost my appetite.

Dad is watching me with a weird expression on his features. His eyes have a gleam in them I haven't seen in a while, and he watches me intently. He almost appears to be smiling, an action that has since become foreign to the both of us. I'm wondering what's up just as he opens his mouth to speak.

"I have good news, kiddo," Dad says, a genuine smile on his face as he takes my hand in his. "I got a job!"

I hesitate. Normally, whenever we move, Dad's jobs consist of fast food and convenience stores. Nothing permanent; something that pays just enough to live off of. What's the point in having a real job if we're just going to move? I guess that's why I can't share in his enthusiasm. I am fighting an internal battle with myself, caught somewhere between wanting to stay here for the rest of our lives and wanting to go back home. I want something permanent at the same time I just want my mom.

Only she's gone.

"Where?" I ask finally, tucking a strand of blond hair behind my ear as I try to muster a little excitement.

"The high school." I can tell that Dad is happy, as he's practically beaming, which makes me the tiniest bit cheery too. I can't remember the last time I felt excited about something.

"Back when I was a teenager, I played for the varsity football team," Dad reminds me with a wink, lips curling into a small smile.

I know this fact already. Back home, Dad and I would go out in the yard together and play football for hours. Mom used to tease Dad when I was little by saying since they had a girl, Dad couldn't fulfill his dream of having a kid to teach football. Dad would just laugh at her and say any kid of his—boy or girl—would play football. Just you see.

And it's true. The sport is a part of who I am because of him, and I wouldn't have it any other way. I miss playing with him. I don't think we've tossed a ball together since the first time we moved a few months back.

"I was captain," Dad says proudly, nearly grinning. "Anyway, I stopped by the high school today, you know, to enroll you." I can feel my excitement slowly fading into oblivion. Another school. New people. A different routine. Starting over and getting used to this life only to up and start over all over again.

Only, it feels different this time. I don't know why, but the thought of living here feels less transparent and more secure. Maybe this really will be forever. Or however long forever lasts, anyway.

"And I ran into the principal. This guy has been at the school since I was going there, and he just so happened to remember me. We got to talking, and he told me the old football coach just retired. The spot is still open, and he told me I could have it if I was interested."

"Let me guess," I muse, biting my lip so I don't smile. "You were interested?"

"Very!" Dad exclaims, eyes shining brightly. "It couldn't have worked out any better! Plus, that means I'll be at the school with you. You and me, kid, every day. What do you think about that?"

I see the hidden message in Dad's words. I won't be alone. He'll always be there for me because Mom can't.

I force myself to smile. The action literally hurts, as I can't remember the last time I smiled. I guess I'm not quite used to it yet.

"I think that sounds great, Dad," I admit softly. Dad beams at me from across the table, eyes sparkling in excitement as his grin lights up the rest of his features.

And I mean the words. I really, truly mean them. Maybe this is it. Maybe this is the year my life will finally start changing for the better. After all, I've already hit rock bottom. Now, the only place left to go is up.