By Chris Cochran
A mother opens her son’s impossibly heavy suitcase and, boy, there is a lot to unpack. She holds up a pair of binoculars and raises her eyebrows. “To see things that are far away,” her son explains. Right. She lifts a fly swatter. “To kill flies,” he says. Of course.
She raises a chunk of pyrite, or fool’s gold, he packed from his geology kit. He mischievously whispers, “To trick Grandma.” She smiles and wraps her son in a warm embrace.
Instead of unpacking, she adds a change of clothes to all his varied treasures; still, the suitcase somehow feels lighter.
Your story made me smile and that is a precious skill.
Does it mean that the son has died ?
I liked it, seemingly simple but with layers.