Cleaning the Kitchen

I woke up last Saturday to the familiar aroma of coffee and toast. The smell that wafted through the air had this tinge of bitterness that told me that mom had once again burnt the toast and it reminded me that she soon had to leave for work. I rushed down the rickety creaking stairs just in time to catch mom leaving the front door. After I gave her a hug and said the usual "miss you" and "please don't come back too late" she told me to clean up the burnt bits of toast off the counter. I nodded and walked back to the kitchen just in time to look out the window over the sink to see mom driving down the street, I smiled as I waved at the car hoping to get a wave back. There wasn't one. I ran the tap over an old cloth and started wiping the blackened crumbs off the counter. I began to think about how I hate that mom has to work through weekends just to make ends meet. I keep telling her that I could get a job but she always tells me that I should focus on school and that people my age shouldn't have to worry about these kinds of problems. Seeing her having to work all the time makes me feel very useless and in the way. If only I could be wiped away just like the crumbs on the counter.