The radio, on low, played constantly. Muriel lay in her bed listening to Hank Williams wail. She could see her mother in a red flowered apron, bow at the back, turning up the volume. Her favorite was “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry.” Its grievous notes hung on the kitchen wall like […]
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At a yard sale Saturday, behind a stack of Time magazines, Ella saw a small, pale green quilt—trimmed in white with a faded red heart in the center. The stitches were uneven and the edges frayed. Holding it to the light, she noticed patches where padding was gone and felt its desire for a home,
The daughter stood in the grass, wet from the sprinklers, her shoes slowly soaking. Inside the older folks were dancing, hands on shoulders, hands clasped. She could hear some early rock and roll, keyboard driven, maybe Little Richard or Fats Domino. To the east sliding glass doors were trimmed in Chinese lanterns—mostly red and yellow.
The Time of Your Life Read More »
