My mother sat down, clasped her hands under her chin casting her penetrating eyes on me and asked, “Whose is this?”
Suddenly, my face and ears had a temperature of their own. Hot. Fear and guilt gripped me tighter than bark on a tree. “Rob’s,” I said.
Category: Forgiveness
The Prodigal
“I want my share of the estate,” the boy blurted. Mariah and her husband exchanged quick glances. The older brother stopped with his hand midway to his mouth. Mariah asked, “But why?” “Because I’m leaving, that’s why,” he, said, keeping his eyes fixed on his father.
The World is Mine
Later while walking down the street, I saw a child I knew. He stood and watched the others play, but he did not know what to do.