Melancholy

My mother sat by the computer, phone in her hand. It was my dad. I knew it
Eavesdropping on her side of the conversation, I heard her say: "Should I tell them?" She didn't speak again, but she nodded her head.
"Love you, bye," she said finally. I waited for her to continue.
After an antagonizing moment, she did.
"Nosotros va a..." she spoke, struggling with her Spanish.
"Can I speak?" We were laughing at her, but she continued, "We're moving."
Hateful tears filled my eyes. We couldn't be... not now, not when I had come to love this place so much.
Overtaken by the lump in my throat, I sat back,
Loving my life, my friends, not wanting to give them up.
Yearning to keep the time I still had.