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“What’s wrong?” I blurted.“The kids. It’s --- it’s the kids” she stuttered.I bolted upright, swung my legs over the side of the bed and grabbed my pants off the chair. As I was pulling them up I asked “What the hell is going on? Are they all right?”She looked at me blankly, nodded and sighed softly “They’re not hurt, it’s something else, be quiet” then turned and walked out of the room. I followed with bare feet, no shirt, wondering what was going on. I glanced at the bedside clock to see that it was 2:04 in the morning.She led me to the kitchen, to the window over the sink and stopped, staring into the back yard. I stepped up beside her and peered into the darkness. At first I didn’t see anything but as my eyes adjusted I began to make out pale shapes and forms in one corner of the yard. My heart picked up its pace, my mind slowed down as I realized what I was looking at.Three bodies, two girls and one boy on a large blanket spread out on the grass. Our family lying on the blanket;. "I'm going to sit on the back porch for a bit... looks like there's a nice breeze." I placed a gentle kiss on my mother's cheek before leaving the room.I stared out into the June evening, hands resting on the oaken rail that enclosed the porch. The soft glimmering of fireflies could now be seen, and the buzzing of crickets filled the air as I stood there quietly, scuffing the floor with the toe of my sandal. All my thoughts were of that strange manuscript, done up on my mother's manual typewriter and annotated here and there in red ink, her scrawly handwriting as familiar to me as my own. Julie, the young woman in the story, was my age, with short coppery hair like mine, a college student who was visiting home. Too close for coincidence. The longer I thought about it, the more convinced I was that the character had to be a barely disguised version of me. The page Mom had bookmarked was especially exciting -- that first scene of intimacy between mother and daughter."Glorious.
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