“Hi Honey, I’m home! Hey Saku!” daddy said cheerfully like he did everyday when he came home from work.
“Hi Honey, good day?” mommy asked daddy.
“It was okay, but now it’s great now that I’ve seen the loves of my life!” daddy said sweetly, pecking mommy on the cheek. They were so in love, the happiest.
A four-year-old me squeals as he lifts me into the air and twirls me above his head.
“Steven (I don’t know Sakura’s dad’s real name, so I improvised), put her down.” Mommy scolds, hand on hip.
“I just want to spoil my babies.” He rested me on his own hip and pulled the three of us into a warm hug.

My eyes crusted with sleep and make-up made opening them difficult. I rubbed away what I couldn’t blink away. When I did so, I noted a wet substance on my cheeks. Tears. I was crying again, despite what I promised myself during the chunnin exams. I lifted my head heavily, realizing I slept at my desk. A letter I slept on smudged with the dampness of the tears. The letter was from Konoha Elite High School (KEHS), saying that they accepted me into their school. I got the full ride, a scollarship. The only catch that kept me here, instead of heading over 1,000 miles away from here, was my mother.
When my father died nine years ago, she never recovered. Her heart was shattered into microscopic pieces, leaving her care for everyone in pieces too. Including mine.
My eyes wandered around my desk, settling on a couple of photographs. The first one was a snapshot of our trip to the beach. A brown-haired, green-eyed man slung one arm over the shoulder of a pink haired, maiden. She was holding little girl closely. It was the last photographical evidence of my dad. We went to the beach to celebrate my mom’s 28th birthday, she loved the beach.
The second photo was a professional taken portrait of two girls. A dark-pink- haired woman placed two tried hands on the shoulders of her youth. A girl with emerald eyes and pink hair smiled sweetly at the camera. Mother and I had our photos taken two weeks ago, we d it every year. And every year, she looks sadder and sadder. My own emerald eyes burned wholes, staring back at at me.
My ears picked up sobs coming from the next room.
Mother.
She cried and cried and cried almost every day now. She won’t go see professional help either. So, she would bawl for hours on end, until I went and fixed it.
Before, I didn’t know what to do, daddy wasn’t here to comfort her, make it better. So I had to do it. I tried everything for baking cookies to sappy movies to hugs, those make her cry harder.
I hated it when she cried, not only her, but anybody. It makes me sad too, like I can feel their pain. With each sob she chokes out, my stomach contracts and something stabbed my heart.
I stood from my desk and headed to our spacious living room. I sat at the lone piano, large and white. As I settled myself, I began my first song. Sweet, sad notes streamed from the instament, washing over me. Apparently it had that affect on mother too, for she came and sat on the couch facing the piano. Her eyes shut; I could not read her emotion well.
When the song came to a close, I began the next one, another slow one. As it played on, her tears dried slowly. And by the last note, a small smile had crept upon her thin lips.
My fingers posed to begin the next song, a quick tempoed, and light song. My fingers bounced the keys up and down, bobbed around. As I played, mother began swaying along and laughing. Her smile shined so bright, I was blinded with the sheer happiness radiating off of her.
This is my remedy for sadness, for her, and for me.