Shalom P.S.
Stories (2)
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A Legacy
I did not know! Some things you are explicitly taught at an early age like how to write your name and some things you learn inadvertently as you grow. Some things, you don’t know until one day, you realize just how MUCH you don’t know. The depth of my ignorance was mindboggling! I did not know until I became a Mom, how hard the position actually was. My Mother made it look so easy! She worked constantly, both outside of our home and in. I never saw the tears that she wept when alone nor those moments when indecision crossed her face as she grappled with which decision she should make for her children! I simply… did not know!
By Shalom P.S.5 years ago in Families
Good Things Come To Those Who Wait
I awoke with a start. Panting heavily, heart pounding in agitation, I looked around the room through bleary eyes. Lying on my back, I could see the beginning streaks of morning light filtering through my grandmother’s worn-out yellow curtains. It was only a dream. A bad dream, which unfortunately contained too many elements of truth. Sighing in resignation, I closed my eyes and rolled onto my belly, punching my relatively flat pillow for good measure. All at once, my frame went rigid as a board. My fingers gripped the edges of my pillow like a drowning man who has just been thrown a lifeline. The events of the last seven months played like scenes from the worst movie I had ever seen. Not wanting to trigger a stress induced asthma attack, I ruthlessly slammed that door into my mind. Yea, I envisioned a real door. It was painted a deep blood red. The black doorknob resembled a clawed talon-like hand extended in welcome, just waiting to snatch me into the abyss of depression beyond. Jerking upright I began my deep breathing techniques. Suddenly my nose became alert to the tantalizing smell of homemade biscuits. Smiling to myself, I felt the last tendrils of tension melt away. My grandmother always knew just what I needed. To some of the locals, she was a healer. Many others called her a witch. To me, she was just Gran. The elderly woman who took one look at the sad-eyed mute little girl and raised her as her own. Kicking my legs free of the clingy sheets, I made my way to the kitchen. My tiny grandmother moved adeptly around the room like someone half her age.
By Shalom P.S.5 years ago in Futurism
