Armed with Cheesecake and Vodka, World Watch Out, I'm Back!

 It was a pleasant day, perfect warm weather, no humidity in the air and no mosquitos. I thought it would be the perfect day to take out the electric bike and go to the store.   It took a bit to get ready, had to make sure I had everything needed in my backpack and the bike was charged up along with my phone.   I took the bike, started it up and was driving out of the little cul d sac we have.  I looked towards my right and saw this thing flying.  It wasn't a bird, but it wasn't a bee either.  It seems to keep up with the speed I was going as if it was racing me.  I swear when I made eye contact with the creature it made a whoo whoo noise like it was reving up its body so it would beat me.  I still hadn't figured out what this creature was.  It was a long beige wormish looking thing and I couldnt see a head.  It was scary looking and I started to panic.  I started to slow down the bike thinking that thing would just fly past me, beaming with pride that it beat someone in a

 I haven't really described the cleaner herself.  Not sure how I want her to be perceived. This is just the first draft of me writing from the cuff.  It does need more meat and when I compare the two I will be able to notice the slight changes as well as major contributions.

  The beeping continued, for hours, as I held her hand.  I didn't have much to say, I didn't know what to say.  The person that raised me was dying and I had not a word.  She didn't know I was there, or who I was for that matter. I just sat there, thinking.  Thinking of times that we had together that were good times.  I know she thinks of those often and chose to forget the bad times. However, the bad outweighed the good, and I didn't understand how she could not remember those times when she did have her wits to her.    I could have flown to her, to be with her longer, but I didn't want to.  It was uncomfortable for me to be there.  I took my time driving cross country, thinking of childhood memories. You know the ones, the memories of running away for the first time, or when your mother told you that you can only call her yes, mother, no mother.  Momma, mommy, mom wasn't in the vocabulary.  Or what about those memories of getting to stay home from school beca