You are standing in a doorway....
(Set a Timer for 15 minutes, and write non-stop.)
As I stand in the doorway, on the porch of our woodframe house, on the Rudy Farm, I smile for the camera to please my mother.
I'm 18 years old, today &, dressed in my Sunday Best, I stand, arms folded at my waist.
Black pants, and belt, white long-sleeved shirt, and brown tie, my hair combed just so, I wonder, "Has time pased THAT quickly since my birth in 1898?"
It doesn't feel like it.
Mother is standing in the living room, behind me, just beyond the door, in her white blouse, and brown top, & I imagine what she must be thinking about this day.
I know she's nervous because I've asked her to finally tell me the truth about my birth, who my Father was, and why I had to spend all my childhood living elsewhere than with her.
She had looked at me, and simply said, "Yes, William, it's time. You are an adult now, and it's your right. I hope you will understand, and forgive me."
Today is the first day of the rest of my life.
Will what my Mother tells me change my life?
Will I want to share her story with my own future wife, and children?
NOTE: Prompt taken from A Writer's Book of Days (Original Ed.) by Judy Reeves.
If you attempt the prompt on your own blog leave a link in the comments. :-D
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