Good morning, everyone!
How’s your Thursday morning going so far? I start my days during the week surrounded by four hungry cats who can’t wait for their morning tuna. Well, three of them surround me; Feather, aka Sorority Girl, always waits patiently by her dish, secure in the knowledge that no matter what, I’ll have tuna left for her after the three pushy cats duke it out over who gets what dish first.
Sometimes after feeding the cats, I’ll look out my backyard window and see a bunny on the lawn. I love those mornings. It’s one of the plusses of living right next to wide open spaces.
The chance of seeing a bunny in my backyard gave me the title and the idea for this week’s story. I hope you enjoy “Chance of Bunnies, with Occasional Toad.”
Chance of Bunnies, with Occasional Toad
Published by Thunder Valley Press
Copyright 2012 by Annie Reed
Image licensed by Depositphotos.com/Eduard Kyslynskyy
The house smelled dusty and abandoned.
Just like me, Cecily thought.
For a minute there, the old-fashioned lock, rusty with age, fought her. Cecily worried the real estate agent had given her the wrong key, but eventually the doorknob turned, and she pushed the door open.
Even though Cecily was a grown woman with a place of her own, it felt odd opening this door with a key that now belonged to her, just like the house itself now belonged to her. During all the summers when she’d been sent to live in this house with her aunt because her mother couldn’t deal with having Cecily home from school for an entire three months, Cecily had never unlocked the door herself.
She could have. Cecily was one of a generation of “latch key” kids, a by-product of the feminist movement that saw women like her mother working nine-to-five jobs while their kids went to school from nine to three. Cecily had worn her house key on a lanyard around her neck, and for two and a half hours every afternoon, she sat by herself at the dining room table and did her homework in an empty house. Not because she wanted to, but because her mom would check Cecily’s work first thing, even before starting dinner, and if Cecily couldn’t show her mom two and a half hours’ worth of work, she was grounded from watching television for the night.
Her aunt didn’t place the same restrictions on Cecily as her mom had.
“Summer is a time for fun,” her aunt used to say. “To read because you want to. Eat in the living room, have dinner for breakfast or breakfast for dinner. It’s not a time for kids to worry about keys. Keys are for grownups.”
The front door opened directly into the living room. Cecily stepped inside and shut the front door behind herself.
(read the rest of the story here)