ashes to be spread on a lake. We knew she wanted this specifically because her ex husband and her liked to go fishing when she was in her early twenties. Even though she had eventually cheated on him with our piece of shit father, and broke his heart, she still remembered the lake. When we would occasionally drive over a bridge above water, she would look out and say “Just look at it, it’s so clear it looks like it could be made of glass.” with a tone in her voice as though she were seeing something for the first time. Or rather, was seeing something beyond this world. So that’s where we were seven years later, with a paper Mcdonald’s cup filled with our mom. The one who had raised us since we were kids. Who had changed our diapers. Who had brought me subway sandwiches and ate lunch with me while still in her work uniform from her job at David’s Bridal while I was in Elementary school. Who we had seen get into a fist fight in the front yard. Who gave us warm washcloths when we were sick. That was the one. While reminiscing, we laughed about the fact that our mother had been afraid of birds all of her life. When she was younger she had long hair that went down past her knees. One hot summer she had been swimming in the pool when a bat came and got caught in her long blonde hair, causing her to almost drown. It wasn’t until our grandmother came and jumped in the pool, in order to get the creature out of our mother’s hair. She had never liked birds since, and always looked suspiciously whenever she saw a pigeon or raven get too close to the front door. After my sister and I had already snorted a line of her, which was dusty and dry, with a rolled up dollar bill, we finally said our goodbyes. We cried about how she cooked us fried chicken with extra pepper, made us hide in the closet during a tornado, put broken glass in the dog food to kill the dogs that had attacked my sister in the sixth grade. How she always took care of us and made sure that we were safe in all the ways that she knew how. But now it was our time to take care of her. As we finally said our last goodbye, we took the plastic lid off of the McDonald’s cup and lifted it up to the wind. I thought about all of the moments when I had taken my mother for granted and wasn’t appreciative enough. How I wished I should’ve taken her more seriously. How I should’ve shown her how much she meant to me. How I should’ve given her the thanks that she deserved. How I wish I still had more time to tell her all of these things. All of the grilled cheeses I complained that were too burnt. All of the times I should have worn my jacket in the rain. All the dirty dishes left piled in the sink while I played outside. All the times I kept her waiting up after dark, worrying about where I was. Right then at that exact moment a bird came and took off with the cup hanging in its mouth like a souvenir. Some of the ashes sprinkled out of the paper cup like rain. Me and my sister looked at each other, and didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I think in our hearts we were doing both. The glass had finally shattered. We knew the true answers. That our mother was finally free to fly away. And that she always hated birds.