The opening sentence for the April 21st Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner: “I’m sure that the little girl in that back seat was signing us…”
I’m sure that the little girl in that back seat was signing us but I looked sideways at mother who was sitting there in her usual rigid way staring off into some place in her past.
If she saw that the little girl was giving her the one finger salute she wasn’t saying.
In the past she would have insisted we pull along side the car so she could give the parent driving a good piece of her mind.
But today mother seemed distracted, a long way away and she wasn’t saying anything much to anyone. Which was a good thing as normally it would have been a whinge about this and a whine about that.
Today we were on our way to Aunt Bertha’s funeral. Bertha was mum’s older sister and a dear old lady at that.
As we came to the edge of town the car in front slowed and indicated a left hand turn.
We slowed down as well and mum looked up with a slight grin on her face, as we veered round the car and shocked me by turning to the little girl and returning her salute.