Friday, September 9, 2011
Flash Fiction (entry #376)
The door swung open. Grandpa, home from his meeting, was still dressed in his dark suit and tie. He was an imposing figure with his gray hair and angry blue eyes.
“Young lady, where have you been!” His loud voice was completely controlled. “Your grandmother and I have been worried sick about you.”
I looked up from my bed where I had been attempting the assigned history reading since being banished to my room an hour earlier. Grandma was standing behind him, and I could see the worry etched on both of their faces.
“I’m sorry, Grandpa.”
I hadn’t meant to worry them. After leaving school, Jon and I had walked the river trail behind the neighborhood. Hours passed as if minutes while we wandered the wooded area, sharing memories of the California we both loved, now so far away. Only upon returning home in the late summer dusk had I considered that anyone might wonder where I was.
“Young lady, while living in my house, you will always let us know where you are. You are grounded.”
More than ever before, I was missing my dead mother, but I bravely held back the tears until the door swung shut.