Post by mswrite on Nov 5, 2005 14:05:19 GMT -8
Susan Barnes woke in the morning to a blaring alarm. She showered and dressed, and made her way into the kitchen. She prepared the children’s lunches for the day. Then she put the eggs and bacon on the stove and went to wake her children.
She woke her son Max first. He was nine. He dressed himself and was mostly independent in the morning, once he was out of bed. She roused him and smiled at his sleepy face beneath his tousled brown hair. He smiled back while he untangled himself from his Toy Story sheets.
She went to her daughter Emmy’s room. For a minute, she watched her sleep, her blonde hair against the pink pillowcase, her favorite doll Mia wrapped in her arms, a peaceful smile on her face. She woke her gently, watching her delicate lashes flutter as her eyes opened. Susan helped Emmy dress in a purple shirt and navy blue jumper. She sat cross-legged on the bed behind Emmy, brushing her blonde hair into pigtails, listening to six-year-old Emmy’s animated chatter.
The family ate breakfast together, and her husband Joe left soon after, planting a quick kiss on Susan’s lips before heading out the door, briefcase in hand. Susan stood with her children at the corner while they waited for the bus, and waved to them as it departed down the street. They didn’t wave back.
She spent her morning running errands and doing housework, but anticipating lunchtime. Each Wednesday, she and Joe met at a deli near their house for lunch together. At noon she was there, and he was just arriving. He ordered a sandwich, she chose a salad, and they sat together. They talked about his job, the kids, the vacation to Disney World that they were planning to surprise the children with over Christmas vacation. As always, Susan was sorry to see the lunch hour end.
When school finished at three-fifteen, Susan picked up her children and took Emmy to her dance lesson. While Emmy was there, she went to the grocery store, leaving Max with a friend. She picked up cookies, Popsicles, Golden Grahams, pudding cups for lunches, and Flintstone vitamins, among many other things. She stood for a long time in front of the casseroles in the freezer, trying to decide on tonight’s dinner. Finally, she chose meat lasagna. In the checkout line, she opened her wallet and saw pictures of Max, his brown hair tousled, smiling, and Emmy, with her blonde pigtails and blue jumper. There was also a picture of Joe, in his work clothes, a button-down shirt and a tie. The cashier commented on her beautiful family, and Susan flashed her an empty smile and left without a word.
When she got back to Emmy’s lesson, with ten minutes to spare, she sat away from the other mothers during the lesson, watching the girls in leotards, dancing and giggling. On the way home she stopped to pick up Max. When she got home, she put the lasagna in the oven and spent her time with her children, listening to Emmy describe her class’s iguana and helping Max with his math homework. At six o’clock sharp, she popped the lasagna out of the oven, as Joe walked through the door. They sat down to dinner and enjoyed the lasagna and talked about school and work. Susan was quiet during dinner, but she listened intently to all that was said.
When she finished her dinner, she rose from the table. She scraped three plates clean, methodically. Breakfast plates that had sat on the table all day, untouched. The eggs had dried and become gummy; the toast was soggy. She poured three glasses of warm orange juice into the sink. Next, she took the two brown paper lunch bags that had sat on the kitchen counter all day, waiting to be taken to school. Slowly, she emptied them of their contents. From each she retrieved a dried out peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich wrapped in wax paper, a plastic bag full of brown, shriveled apple slices, a crumbly chocolate chip cookie, and a juice box.
She dumped three plates of cold lasagna into the trash bag. When she did the dishes, she took off her wedding ring—a fake plastic ring from the bottom of a cereal box. Finally, she retrieved her wallet and threw away the pictures of Emmy, Max, and Joe, which were cutouts of people she didn’t know. Then she retreated to the den with a pair of scissors, to search her magazines, Family Circle and Parenting, for pictures of tomorrow’s family.
She woke her son Max first. He was nine. He dressed himself and was mostly independent in the morning, once he was out of bed. She roused him and smiled at his sleepy face beneath his tousled brown hair. He smiled back while he untangled himself from his Toy Story sheets.
She went to her daughter Emmy’s room. For a minute, she watched her sleep, her blonde hair against the pink pillowcase, her favorite doll Mia wrapped in her arms, a peaceful smile on her face. She woke her gently, watching her delicate lashes flutter as her eyes opened. Susan helped Emmy dress in a purple shirt and navy blue jumper. She sat cross-legged on the bed behind Emmy, brushing her blonde hair into pigtails, listening to six-year-old Emmy’s animated chatter.
The family ate breakfast together, and her husband Joe left soon after, planting a quick kiss on Susan’s lips before heading out the door, briefcase in hand. Susan stood with her children at the corner while they waited for the bus, and waved to them as it departed down the street. They didn’t wave back.
She spent her morning running errands and doing housework, but anticipating lunchtime. Each Wednesday, she and Joe met at a deli near their house for lunch together. At noon she was there, and he was just arriving. He ordered a sandwich, she chose a salad, and they sat together. They talked about his job, the kids, the vacation to Disney World that they were planning to surprise the children with over Christmas vacation. As always, Susan was sorry to see the lunch hour end.
When school finished at three-fifteen, Susan picked up her children and took Emmy to her dance lesson. While Emmy was there, she went to the grocery store, leaving Max with a friend. She picked up cookies, Popsicles, Golden Grahams, pudding cups for lunches, and Flintstone vitamins, among many other things. She stood for a long time in front of the casseroles in the freezer, trying to decide on tonight’s dinner. Finally, she chose meat lasagna. In the checkout line, she opened her wallet and saw pictures of Max, his brown hair tousled, smiling, and Emmy, with her blonde pigtails and blue jumper. There was also a picture of Joe, in his work clothes, a button-down shirt and a tie. The cashier commented on her beautiful family, and Susan flashed her an empty smile and left without a word.
When she got back to Emmy’s lesson, with ten minutes to spare, she sat away from the other mothers during the lesson, watching the girls in leotards, dancing and giggling. On the way home she stopped to pick up Max. When she got home, she put the lasagna in the oven and spent her time with her children, listening to Emmy describe her class’s iguana and helping Max with his math homework. At six o’clock sharp, she popped the lasagna out of the oven, as Joe walked through the door. They sat down to dinner and enjoyed the lasagna and talked about school and work. Susan was quiet during dinner, but she listened intently to all that was said.
When she finished her dinner, she rose from the table. She scraped three plates clean, methodically. Breakfast plates that had sat on the table all day, untouched. The eggs had dried and become gummy; the toast was soggy. She poured three glasses of warm orange juice into the sink. Next, she took the two brown paper lunch bags that had sat on the kitchen counter all day, waiting to be taken to school. Slowly, she emptied them of their contents. From each she retrieved a dried out peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich wrapped in wax paper, a plastic bag full of brown, shriveled apple slices, a crumbly chocolate chip cookie, and a juice box.
She dumped three plates of cold lasagna into the trash bag. When she did the dishes, she took off her wedding ring—a fake plastic ring from the bottom of a cereal box. Finally, she retrieved her wallet and threw away the pictures of Emmy, Max, and Joe, which were cutouts of people she didn’t know. Then she retreated to the den with a pair of scissors, to search her magazines, Family Circle and Parenting, for pictures of tomorrow’s family.
