The smoke traveled through my throat all the way to my lungs. With cloudy thoughts and smelly clothes I sat on the back row. Teachers and classmates wonder alike. I wish I could push the smell inside my Hello Kitty backpack But I cannot, so instead, I pull myself aside. I keep telling mommy to quit. But does she listen? I wish she did. A couple of years later I discovered a marvelous thing! Although I had promised myself I would never touch a cigarette, I do. It happened in the backyard where my volleyball fell. I simply bent down and picked up a cigarette **** instead.
The skinny, now small cigarette- still blushing with mom’s lipstick. I put it in my mouth, automatically. Just how I’ve seen her do it millions of times. I inhale and exhale my worries away and become my mom. Next thing I know, the stench disappears and it’s me who blows little puffy clouds into my daughter’s mouth and lungs. I pass the sickness on. Later on we go visit Doctor Nguyen. As we step inside, I can smell the infected air of the hospital’s hall. And I know. I know what the doctor will say. While I see myself on my daughter’s head I can hardly breathe. I am choking with the smell of smoke, The smell of sadness, The smell of tears and of cancer.