That Call

The phone rings as I zip up Frankie’s jacket. It’s Mom. She and Dad are at the oncologist for the results of Dad’s biopsy and CAT scan. All she says are two words.

“It’s positive.”

I stop zipping my son’s coat. The light off the tiled landing, the specks of lint and cotton on the burgundy carpeted stairs, Frankie’s protests: Everything fades. I stand silent. For how long, I can’t remember.

December cold . . .

Crying and trembling

In her arms

First published in Cattails, January 2015