My last memory of my mother

My last memory of my mother…
I close my eyes and think back.
Was by a car in front of a building
I had never seen before.
I believe I knew even at five
that I would never see her again.
My clothes were packed in a duffle bag.
My comics, in a brown paper bag.
She said I was going away for awhile,
but I knew better.
I had gone away before
for several months
and returned,
but this was different.
She was crying and reassuring me
that everything would be better
this time.
My little brother was in the backseat,
hands pressed against the window.
He was crying too and didn’t know why.
A man came out from the building
and said his name was George.
He picked up my bags
and returned to the building.
I told my mother not to cry,
that I would be ok.
I asked for a picture of us
so I could remember
and she cried harder.
She hugged me tight and said she was sorry.
She took my hand and led me
toward the building.