Being a Burden on my Mom

I laid in the cotton blanket, staring at the grey ceiling. It was like every other basic hospital room. This included the beeping machines, pastel curtains, and that oh so marvelous smell that is associated with the place. The only thing that was remotely interesting was the window. Not the window itself but the view. The room overlooked dazzling crimsons and yellows of the fall trees that were similar to a blazing fire. It was almost enough to distract me from my unconscious sister.
My sister, Kenzie, was clumsy, plain and simple. She couldn’t walk two feet without tripping. She always blamed it on some mysterious force. I chuckled at the thought just as my parents walked in.
“All they had was bagels and cream cheese,” my mother said. Her voice was ragged from the crying and exhaustion of this week.
“It’s okay mom,” I took the plate immediately.
“Thanks Kyle,” my dad’s voice was filled with gratitude.
This was the least I could do for them since Kenzie fell into a coma. She always said her clumsiness would kill her. It hadn’t killed her yet but it has made her fall down a flight of ...