Forty-Six Years_The Yoke_Lost in the Echo_Planning for the Future
Catalog Guide:
Forty-Six Years
I looked down at my mother’s obituary in my hand. This will be my year, I told myself. It wasn’t like it was a surprise she had finally died. Months of her deteriorating, her grip loosening on my hand, her clarity waning. My visits turned from conversations about my childhood, spoken of like they were just yesterday, to sitting in a straight backed floral nursing home chair, watching her watch birds outside of her 2 foot by 2 foot portal into the world she had once inhabited. My mother couldn’t help the way she was, any more than she could help her incurable faith in people. There was not ...
The Yoke
“Easy, Sam.”He ran his hand down the ox’s ribcage and shuffled toward the front of the trailer. The creature swung his head around, wide-eyed, and his horns hit the metal frame of the trailer.“How much do they weigh?” called a bystander.“3,200,” he replied without looking. “Each.”His assigned stalls were near the far end where the hill sloped down toward the camper village. They were good spots, close enough to the water spicket and far enough from the main door. That evening he sat on an overturned water bucket and tightened the bolts in the yoke as the oxen chewed their cud and barn swallow...
Lost in the Echo
Ahna sat quietly in the corner booth of a cafe' on the corner of Main st. in the town of Unionville. Well, if you could even call it a town. The population was 234 in the winter months and most of that were families that had lived there for at least 3 generations. Although Unionville had all the modern conveniences, the cafe' wawww.onedoor.ccs the only place visitors could get Wifi. With the purchase of a cup of freshly percolated coffee and one of Jesse Smallwoods prize winning blueberry cheesecake bombs of course.Ahna had grown up outside of town on her grandparents’ farm but had moved away to go to colle...
Planning for the Future
“Please, have a seat Mrs. Stone and Ms. Stone.” Darlene Hudson, Esq. sweeps her hand like she is about to hit a forehand, indicating the two seats facing her desk. Winter light filters through the white curtains behind the desk embracing Ms. Hudson and her high-backed black leather chair in its glow. “How can I help you today?”“I need to make out my Will, I told your assistant when I made the appointment.” Mom grips the armrest of one the chairs. My hand on the back of the chair keeps it stable while Mom lowers herself. Once Mom is comfortable, I sit in the other chair. “There is another issu...