When my children were young, I learned that sometimes you literally have to have a fire lit under you to appreciate how dear those close to you are. We moved to the country looking for a safer, less stressful life for ourselves and our two young children. Our rural Minnesota house sat well back from the road. There was ample room for Nicki, our three-year old, and Lance, our six year old, to play safely on the five acre plot of land that surrounded our house.
Maybe it's because of the beauty of this area but the people here are among the friendliest, most good-natured, and warm-hearted that I have met anywhere.
One day after work, I came home to see Baby sitting on the table, looking into the Aquarium. As I walked into the living room, I could see that the carpet was soaked. My heart sank. I was oblivious to the mess because I was sure the fish was a goner.
After I finished driver's training, I thought I was road-ready, but passing the behind-the-wheel driver's test turned out to be something like climbing Mt. Everest. It took me four tries to pass it. The first was not entirely due to poor driving.
I walked away from driving about two years ago. I’ve never really enjoyed driving. I have always been a nervous driver, afraid that I will zig when a zag is called for. Several near misses during my driving days amplified that fear. I think the problem may have started on a Sunday drive.
Written in 1999, this short story is the author's first venture into the world of Science Fiction. It is the story of mis-communication between two travelers: One in need of a substance, the other who would be better off without it.
Yes it had been, she thought as she looked at the vase of flowers. The tears came to her eyes as she tried to remember the last time he had brought flowers home. She couldn’t. It had been a long time between bouquets.
One day in early summer the pig disappeared. Although they searched the countryside for him, the Johnsons couldn’t find him. They figured they had seen the last of the little piglet…
A mild mystery about ears and earrings, things lost and things found.
The other day, I watched one neighboring squirrel raid the nest of the homesteader in our front yard tree. A few days later, the homesteader buried another cache of nuts on our boulevard. As soon as he left, the neighbor came over, searched, pillaged and re-buried our homesteader's bounty. No wonder the homesteader can't find his stockpile!