theme song for The Lone Ranger convincing as a heart attack and on the top of my desk. just as unyielding. Time to kiss my Silence on the other end of family and career goodbye! the phone—never a good thing My boss was less where my mum was involved. I understanding than my husband waited as she cleared her throat a and teenaged kids. Given the few times and took a sip of circumstances, however, I something—coffee with just a managed to slip away with my job snippet of brandy and cream, I intact. suspected. "I'm dying," she finally That evening, when I arrived said. "I hate to be rude, Summer, at my mum's in Silverdale, I but can we please work all this noticed a motorhome parked in out during our trip?" Just like my front of her building. Mum's tiny mum—blunt and evasive all at the backside led the way down its same time. stairs as she backed down one She had been battling with step at a time. leukemia for some time, so "Mum, what are you doing?" the news should not have come "Packing," she said. "Do you as such a shock—but it did. "Um, have your personals? I left the look, Mum; I have to go. How bottom drawer and right closet about if I swing by your place open for you." after work?” A middle-aged gentleman More silence. "That will be with a huge belly and a ruddy face just fine, dear. Be packed and approached the rig. He handed to roll." Click—and she was gone. my mum her keys. "Your place is The woman was like a Northwest empty, Mrs. Greyson. Here are storm—quick to stir and faster to the keys to your rig." clear. "Thank you, Mr. Farley, for "Shit!" I hissed, slamming my everything." hand upon my cluttered desk as I The man sized me up for an Mum would never take no uncomfortable moment before for an answer. She was as saying, "Good luck to you, gal!"
theme song for The Lone Ranger on the top of my desk. Silence on the other end of the phone—never a good thing where my mum was involved. I waited as she cleared her throat a few times and took a sip of something—coffee with just a snippet of brandy and cream, I suspected. "I'm dying," she finally said. "I hate to be rude, Summer, but can we please work all this out during our trip?" Just like my mum—blunt and evasive all at the same time. She had been battling with leukemia for some time, so the news should not have come as such a shock—but it did. "Um, look, Mum; I have to go. How about if I swing by your place after work?” More silence. "That will be just fine, dear. Be packed and to roll." Click—and she was gone. The woman was like a Northwest storm—quick to stir and faster to clear. "Shit!" I hissed, slamming my hand upon my cluttered desk as I Mum would never take no for an answer. She was as convincing as a heart attack and just as unyielding. Time to kiss my family and career goodbye! My boss was less understanding than my husband and teenaged kids. Given the circumstances, however, I managed to slip away with my job intact. That evening, when I arrived at my mum's in Silverdale, I noticed a motorhome parked in front of her building. Mum's tiny backside led the way down its stairs as she backed down one step at a time. "Mum, what are you doing?" "Packing," she said. "Do you have your personals? I left the bottom drawer and right closet open for you." A middle-aged gentleman with a huge belly and a ruddy face approached the rig. He handed my mum her keys. "Your place is empty, Mrs. Greyson. Here are the keys to your rig." "Thank you, Mr. Farley, for everything." The man sized me up for an uncomfortable moment before saying, "Good luck to you, gal!"
2015%20Autumn%20S&S.docx