This post is written for The Red Dress Club's "Red Writing Hood" fiction challenge.
(My first piece of fiction, though this one was inspired by real life.)
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“Do you have your shoes on,” she asks her daughter as she fills her snack bag with two peaches and a juice box?
“I can’t tie them.”
Sophia sits by the sliding glass door, sneakers on, but on the wrong feet.
“Switch them.”
And such is the morning ritual. As she waits for the Nike’s to find their homes on the appropriate left and right, she puts the dog in his crate and finds her cell phone on the counter amongst the pile of dirty dishes left over from last night’s dinner. She sighs and heads back to her daughter.
“I like them tied tight,” Sophia says.
“I know you do. Tight enough?”
A satisfied nod.
She opens the blinds covering the sliding door to glance at the thermometer. Seventy-six degrees. Finally a beautiful day, she thinks, happy to have some relief from the unseasonably scorching May weather.
“Let’s go out this way,” Sophia says.
“Nope. Front door,” she replies.
“Nope. This door,” the toddler sings back.
She avoided using that door all week. The journey to the car via the deck and sidewalk was too depressing.
“I want to see the flowers.”
“Sweetie, what happened to the flowers?”
“The not-nice deer?”
“Come on, let’s go.”
Sophia peeked out the blinds, staring out into the garden.
“Okay, fine, this door.”
She had to get over it eventually. After all, what kind of person grieves over flowers, she thought?
Out they go, into the cool spring breeze. Sophia skips ahead along the sidewalk.
She stops to survey the damage as they head to the car. Bare stalks stand stark and rigid in the border along the walkway.
“Mommy look!” Sophia exclaims.
“Did you find an ant?”
“No Mommy. Look!” Sophia says again, pointing toward a used-to-be lily.
As she approaches her daughter, she sees a single pink petal beginning to emerge from its bud.
“How did I miss that?”
“The deer was nice, Mommy. It left you a flower.”
And Sarah smiled.
