LA is a creative writer from the greater Boston area of Massachusetts.
A Short Story
Hannah, a little dark brown-haired, fair skinned girl of six, looked out at the ocean. She giggled as the waves slapped the sand, as the soft rain hit her face and the wind blew her hair. Her mother, lighter haired, equal in complexion, but twenty-eight years her senior, watched her from the car. She contemplated calling her to come in, but, instead, she felt her hand open the car door and her feet carry her over to the graffiti covered cement breaking wall to join her daughter.
“Mummy, I love the rain.” She said, rubbing her wet little face on her mother’s shirt.
“Thanks.” Her mother sarcastically responded, rubbing her daughter’s head.
Hannah’s mom felt her daughter wrap her arms around her. She wished that Hannah wasn’t so tall so that she could pick her up and run with her like she used to. She kissed the crown of her head instead.
“Mummy, am I still your guppy?” Hannah asked, her voice muffled.
“Am I still your baby bird?”
Hannah looked up at her mother, a mischievous smile upon her lips.
“Mummy, am I still your little shit?”
Hannah bent over, laughing hysterically. Her mother grabbed her and squeezed her, tightly. A seagull circled and squawked above them.
“We better get back to the car before they eat you, Hanny.” Her mother said, looking up.
“Mummy, seagulls don’t eat children.”
“They might if the child’s mommy asks them to.”
Hannah ran to the car, laughing. She continued to try the door handle until her mom pressed the unlock button on the key. She got her daughter settled and buckled and walked around the car to get in.
“Mummy?” She asked, extending her hand like she always did to “help” her mom into the car.
“What do you want to eat then?” She turned the key in the ignition. Hannah rushed to have the chance to switch the wiper blades on. Her mother shook her head and laughed.
“I wish I could drive my car.”
“Yup. My car. My small SUV.”
Hannah’s mom tickled her neck, loving the sound of her squeal almost as much as she loved being her mom.
“And what would you pick up for dinner in your small SUV?”
“You got coupons?” She asked, pointing at her mother’s phone. “You got deals?”
Hannah’s mom shook her head, amused, and wondered if other moms of six-year-old kids had to contend with their thriftiness. She went to their go to pizza joint’s app and looked at the coupons. She felt her daughter’s head on her shoulder.
“See anything good?” She asked, craning her hazel eyes to see.
“If we get our usual, would you eat the leftovers tomorrow?”
“Yup! I’d even sneak into the kitchen while you’re sleeping and eat them all up.”
“Oh, Hanny. You’re so silly.”
Hannah’s mom compiled the mobile order, double checked it and hit send.
“How much longer?” Hannah asked, rubbing her stomach. “My tummy. It growls.”
“Twenty minutes?!?” Hannah melodramatically collapsed.
“Did you want to go for a drive while we wait or just stay here?”
“Drive please. Go the whole beach!” Hannah said, gesticulating.
Hannah’s mom laughed and, once it was safe to do so, began the drive down the paved shore road. The little girl had opened her window to feel closer to the waves. The air felt nice as they drove.
© 2022 L A Walsh