The garage door made its usual welcome home announcement to my mother's car as returned from her visit to the doctors office. I knew what was wrong from little hints and putting together puzzle pieces, I was a quite inquisitive child, however I didn't understand the reality of the situation. I knew my mother had cancer, and I knew she was about to tell me, but I sat on the couch watching cartoons as happy as any other child. She walked in the door and my dogs started barking as always to say hello and to rival the noise of the garage door. My dad was in the kitchen warming up cold pizza and my six-year-old sister was enjoying the hilarious cartoons with me. My mother put her purse down on the kitchen table and my father greeted her with a simple "Hi," void of emotion as usual. Then she asked me to join her in the laundry room. I walked about 10 feet and turned into the well lit, narrow room. We had complete privacy aside from the grumbling of the washer and dryer. I stepped in some water that was evident that the utility sink was leaking yet again, and I turned to face my mother with the dark wooden door as her backsplash. This may seem like a rather odd place but it was the easiest place to get total and complete privacy. I staired through my brown bangs into her watery blue eyes and I knew that tears would fall. I wanted to tell my mom I knew what was wrong. I wanted to say "I know you have cancer," then hide in the closet to her right. However, I let her speak. It was her story to tell, not mine. Simply and straight forward, she said it, "I have breast cancer." I knew it for weeks but it all became real when she then said, "I am going to fight it." Then that vivid memory comes to a close. My mother did indeed fight of brest cancer for two terrible years and she is now in remission