“Gee, Dad, she’ll explode when she finds out.”

“That’s why I ordered a replacement.”

When the doorbell rang, Carrie raced to the door.

“Did you order anything?” she asked Harold who happened to appear alongside.

“Yes I did,” he mumbled. “I’ll open it in my office, after my next Zoom meeting.”

At dinner, everyone gathered in the dining room. Carrie glanced at the China cabinet.

“Strange,” she uttered. “I’m certain that figurine has blonde hair, not red.”

Kenneth looked his friend over as if to check for any cracks needing medical intervention.

“It’s time you learn,” Benjamin said. “How can you go through life without making an omelette?”

Kenneth reluctantly selected a recipe. He gathered all ingredients he could find and set out to cook.

Benjamin took a bite. “You call this an omelette?”

The cook wriggled uncomfortably. “I didn’t know we ran out of milk.”

“You could’ve used skim milk powder, mixed with water.”

Benjamin continued crunching, picking out bits from his portion.

During adolescence their relationship strengthened. Whenever he lost direction, she made time for him.

Into adulthood, the pattern continued. He didn’t hesitate in seeking her wisdom.

As Christopher strolled on the beach near the home they once shared, something at a distance caught his eye. A polished heart-shaped pebble glistened under the streaming sunshine.

He looked to the deep blueness above, thanking his mother for the gift. Feeling her warmth, after she had left life on earth.

“When was the last time you watered it, Robbie?” Mother asked their eldest offspring.

“Whoops! I forgot.”

Mother got the watering can out. After days of nurturing, the needles still cascaded to the floor.

“Need to add more decorations,” Dad beamed, holding a box of icicles.

On Christmas Eve they all gathered around the tree to sing carols. Selfies were taken between exclamations of “ooh and aah.”

“Christmas 2020!” exclaimed Mother. “COVID-19 edition.”

Extended family, among them the dearly departed, stared down from their portraits on the wall.

She told Sammy how dearly she missed him. How her life lacked happiness, excepting visits from grandchildren.

They would’ve delighted seeing him. But it was different for them. They lived elsewhere in town. Their lives filled with interests young people sought.

Only when Rose died did her grandchildren realize her loneliness. Close to the burial ground, hidden under debris, they uncovered a stash of cigarette ends.

Mr. X fell. How badly?

Initially, he didn’t know. He continued contriving grandiose schemes. To deceive and conquer. Gain at the loss of others.

Friends he once had dwindled to one. They witnessed him gloating. How he went from rags to riches, increasing net worth “like no one else.”

Until the world sank into monetary collapse.

His temper shot up. Those he benefited from abandoned positions of his corporate ladder. He maintained headstrong in his quest of greatness, overriding those needing assistance.

Indeed, Mr. X fell. Sad thing, he had no clue how to rise.

Raucous ravens accompanied his steps. When he encountered a dead end without seeing the landmark he sought to see, he realized his mistake.

Back at the fork sadness overwhelmed his senses. He no longer was motivated to continue the walk and returned to his car.

In childhood years he waited countless hours for his mother’s homemade cookies. He sprung leaks in pj’s waiting for a sister to leave their one and only bathroom. College dates made him wait outside their apartments. He didn’t know why but when they emerged they looked gorgeous.

Now this. Physical distancing to get necessities. Because of a virus.

Rob’s phone rang.

“I’m still waiting in a lineup for the pharmacy,” said his wife. “At least a dozen shoppers before me.”

“Let’s see you join us,” they demanded.

“It’s wrong to deface public property,” I replied.

When a recycling truck rolled in, frustration of the driver as to not being able to do his pickup job landed them at the school office. The self-appointed artists got suspended from class and were ordered to remove their creations.

“Did you take part in that graffiti?” Dad asked.

“Have more wine,” my friends encouraged. “You’ll sleep easier.”

I took the bottle, poured a glassful. Considered my next move with every sip. What if this happens again? Can I take more defeat?

We sat at the scene of the blaze. The nearby forest receded into a thickening mist. I removed that which once was from my clasp and attached another to the end of my skewer.