A is for Age

I am joining in the group  "Blogging from A to Z" .  This is a  a month long challenge to write a short story everyday and each day corresponding to the letter of the alphabet.  I have linked up the site - simply click on the name so that you might read any sort of short story from the huge line-up available.  the stories are supposed to be short so that many can be read, quickly.  Simply a titillation of talent.  Happy reading, and thank you for joining me.  

A is for Age

She looked in the mirror, the reflection staring back was so familiar.  She had seen that face nearly every day for all of her life.  Everyone told her how she seemed to look more and more like her mother every day.  Now it seemed as though she had morphed into the very person. 

Tilting her head ever so slightly, she could almost hear the words.  “Amy Anne, you get in here this minute.  Who do you think you are staying out so late?  Why, the street lights have already lit up!”   Her mother’s words came flooding back, along with the memories of those long lost days.

Dropping the baseball bat, the long legged ten year old scooped up her mitt.  With a wave to her friends, she began what her brother always called her “high tailing it” home.  She knew this was to be an important night.  She should have been home helping her mother half an hour ago.  Guilt spurred her feet to move even faster.

Rushing into the house, Amy Anne flew past her mother standing at the stove, to the wash basin.  After thoroughly scrubbing her hands, she carefully began setting the table.  She and her mother had already eaten.  This was a special meal for her parents and some people Amy Anne didn’t know.  Business people was all she had been told.  It would be a late meal and Amy Anne was to go to her room as soon as they arrived.

But, that was then and this is now.  Her life may have been different, and yet it may have turned out just the same.  Who is to know?  It had been her life and it had changed that day.  A deal had been struck and her life set on the path.  They had arranged the betrothal before she had even begun to think about boys “in that way”.  Her life hadn't been too hard, nor had it been too easy.  She seemed to muck along in the quagmire of the daily grind.  It was life, some days good and some days not so good.  Luckily she was tied to a good man.  Lucky she had been the right age. Luckily they chose her because she looked like her mother.

leigh