SusanWritesPrecise

It is First Line Friday at MindloveMiserys Menagerie! Welcome and let’s get writing.

Below, I give you the first line, and you all get to write the rest

This week our prompt is: A perfectly brewed cup of tea can’t fix everything.

A perfectly brewed cup of tea can’t fix everything.

May 28th will mark 17 years since the police officer rang my doorbell. I couldn’t imagine what the problem could be, why a cop was at my door. He stuttered and stammered, kept apologizing for something he couldn’t quite spit out. Finally, he was able to articulate:

My mother had died in her sleep the night before.

I watched him walk away, not quite believing what he’d said. There must be a mistake. So, I called my mom at her apartment in Denver, and there was no answer.

That doesn’t mean anything. She could be out shopping, visiting a friend, anywhere.

Next, I called the morgue and they confirmed my biggest fear. My mom really was dead.

In a daze I called an airline and booked a flight to Denver.

Hours later I arrived at her empty apartment. Inside, there was not a trace of life. Her absence screamed in my ears. Next to the burnt orange recliner on which she once sat and watched TV or worked crossword puzzles was an end table. On it sat a delicate saucer and cup of tea, exactly the right shade of creamy light brown. There was a lipstick print on the edge, the same shade she’d worn for years.

It seemed that the cup of tea was waiting for her as if she’d just gotten up for a moment to answer the phone or get a snack.

My mom, Vivian

8 thoughts

      1. Thank you. You’re right, it doesn’t. I am thankful I was with my Dad, and glad that Mum received my last letter and that I’d spoken to her a couple of days before she died. Both of them are always with me though.

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