Author: Bevbbs

A Special Star

I have a friend whose mother died when he was just a child. Wally was the youngest of eight children and his older sisters became mother to him. Being a four year old, he didn’t understand what had happened to his mother, but he knew he missed her. He would be outside on a sunny day playing happily when suddenly he would hear her voice calling to him. He would lift his head from the solemn task of watching ants making way around bits of twigs and grass he had laid upon the ground in their path, and listen for her voice. And when it did not come again, he would begin to cry with large tears rolling down his cheeks, his nose running, wiping his face with his sleeve. Then one or another sister would come looking for him and finding him in tears, take him upon her lap to soothe him. One night that summer several of his brothers and sisters played touch football in the back yard of their home. Wally could not play in the dark; it was too easy to stumble over him despite the back porch light being on. Mary, the oldest sister, took him by the hand and led him to the front yard where the darkness was complete for no moon disturbed the night. Mary and Wally laid down on the grass...

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Taking Flight

The woman rose from her bed with a bit of cheer upon her face.  It was her 82nd birthday and she was a content woman, her husband of 56 years still alive. On this her birthday, she would be treated to a fine dinner out and perhaps a phone call from a daughter or grandchild and that was just about the right amount of celebration for someone her age.  She finished dressing and while making her way to the kitchen glanced out a window to see three old friends hurrying up the front walk with gifts in their hands. A bit surprised at the morning hour she nonetheless was delighted that they had thought of her on this day. She hurried to the door and greeted them and as they entered the hall with smiles and all the little gestures that women make when coming in from the cold, touching the hair, adjusting a scarf, stamping their boots free of snow and ice, she noticed how really old they looked, much older than she expected, like hags in children’s stories of witches and goblins. Then they embraced her and kissed her on the cheek and at that moment she slipped to the floor remembering these friends had died, each of them, one of them long ago, and the other two more recently. She remembered now that she had read...

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