Lifelong dabbler in story telling
“And stay out!” Minnie shouted at her husband as she slammed the front door and clicked the lock into place. It was a new lock, installed while Ed was at work, after Minnie emptied their bank account. While the locksmith worked on each exterior door, Minnie threw Ed’s cloths into two battered suitcases and tossed them onto the porch.
A Mother's Gift
Andrea hesitated at the threshold of her mother’s tiny Cape Cod. “Almost done,” she spoke aloud. “Just one more room.” The old bronze key stuck in the lock, but by now Andrea knew exactly how to jiggle it to make it give way. She stepped into an empty kitchen, cupboards bare and floor swept clean. Gloves tucked into coat pockets, she hung the parka on a hook, followed by the scarf. She paused, savored the softness of the scarf beneath her fingers, and imagined her mother knitting away, needles clacking while she rocked to a rhythm only she heard.
“Mom, I want to do something!” Liz wiped the tears from her face and minimized the spreadsheet on her screen. “What do you want to do?”