Because I seem to be able to complete something short, here’s an under 500 word story. I hope you enjoy it.
Take My Hand
It was one of those perfect mornings. Nothing could go wrong. Eden had returned. The dawn was full of pinks and oranges. The sky clear. The temperature low 70s. Light breeze.
Down the lane a shaggy, black dog trotted toward me. As he leaped on the porch I offered him a bite of toast. Satisfied that he was acknowledged, he flopped on the protesting boards with an audible sigh.
Sarah came out, still in her pajamas. She climbed on my lap, although she’s really too big, and put her arms around my neck.
As the sun completed its separation from the earth with a reluctance mirrored in my daughter when I eased her from my lap we entered the house through the creaky screen door.
The dog raised his head and, deprived of company, rose, stretched, and wandered on down the road toward his next bite of toast or pat on the head.
Sara took my hand as we walked toward the kitchen. I asked what she would like to eat and she gave the question the serious attention it deserved before selecting pancakes.
Since it was a rare morning she didn’t choose anything else, I kept a jar of batter in the refrigerator. It took only a few minutes, but Sarah was impatient. “Mama, I’m hungry. How long will it take?”
“As long as it takes.” That’s my standard answer to most everything.
She sighed and sat down and magically the pancakes were ready. A serious child, Sarah made sure the pancakes were completely covered with butter and there was just enough, but not too much syrup.
When she finished, I made sure all the syrup was gone from her face and fingers before we went upstairs.
“Today I think I’ll wear blue. It’s a blue day.”
“Do you mean it’s a sad day?”
“No, why would I think it’s sad?”
“Some people say they are blue when they are sad.”
She thought about that. “Why don’t they just say they’re sad?”
“I don’t know.” I hadn’t thought about it in those terms. “So, why is it a blue day?”
“Because the sky is blue.” She carefully selected a blue shirt and shorts and socks. “I can’t find my blue panties!”
“It’s okay. I think they are in the dryer. Just stay here and I’ll get them.”
She was waiting impatiently wearing her socks and shirt when I returned.
“I had to get dressed out of order. I don’t like that.” She completed dressing and said, “What will we do today?”
“That would be good.”
So I took the hand of my healthy twenty-three year old daughter and we walked out of the house into the beautiful, perfect morning