It was late by most people's standards, unless you were a night owl. It had been a fun but long evening of team effort as we prepared the venue for tonight's affair.
He came into my bedroom and leaned against my dresser. We talked. There was a glimpse of similarity to this scene, but it was suspended in that moment of conversation. But after he left, it all came to the top like cream that rises on those milk bottles of my childhood. This was the last time that he would do this and my mind was flooded with the countless times of years past that this was a normal occurrence. Coming into my bedroom late at night , to talk, mother and son.
Those apron strings that have been stretching taut these past years snapped last night. But they snapped with gladsome tunes of, "Thank you for all you have done," and a delightful conversation, mother and son.
winter home economics
This is "me" still attempting to maintain some sort of walking schedule on the slippery snowy ice! One gingerly placed foot at a t...
-
This is Just to Say by William Carlos Williams I have eaten the plums that were in the icebox and which you were probably saving for breakfa...
-
Offense would not be taken if someone defined my life as prosaic. Because in some ways my daily routines could be truly described as such. Y...
