By Andrew Schenck
Her bright blue eyes probed the recesses of my mind, trying to make sense of the stranger that had broken into her house.
“Who are you? What are you doing here?”
As I descended into the La-Z-Boy’s cotton cloud, I replied with silence.
The woman desperately searched for something beyond the purple irises guarding her front window. “I wanna go home!” she cried.
Tears welled up in my eyes, a visceral reaction to grief buried deep inside. “Grandma, you ARE home.”
Fixating on an old oak tree, which lifted its finger-like projections in vicarious supplication, she whimpered, “I wanna go home.”
Touching, sad, bitter-sweet. A real Winner, Andrew.
Beautiful, yet sad, story.
Excellent story.
Nice..poignant.