Three weeks later…
*Hattie*
I sit alone in a rocking chair on the Monroes’ porch, which seems to creak in rhythm with the cicadas. My dress is stained with blue juice and dirt. Charlie and I spent all afternoon picking blueberries, and now she and the children are in the kitchen washing them. The sun hangs low, slipping toward the hills like it's trying to escape. How I envy it.
A thousand memories from home drift through my mind like the songs I heard on the radio as a kid. Familiar, comforting, and laced with a kind of warmth a person doesn't recognize until it’s gone. My sister laughing at my dad’s cheesy jokes. My mom calling every time she got a good deal at a clearance sale. Pizza. Oh, how I long for a big slice of pepperoni pizza with extra cheese. And my students, of course….
