Friday, November 25, 2022

A week after they returned home, Honey and Loxley sat on the front porch rocking chairs. They looked over the frosty yard, drinking coffee, and Honey cautiously unfolded her story, the one she had hidden away for over twenty-one years.

 “Brynn married not long after she turned twenty. I tried to prevent it, because she had known the man for only a few months and I thought she should be a little older before making such a big decision. I guess I really just didn’t want to lose my little girl… She wouldn’t listen, left, and got married. Well, two years later, she got a divorce, and came back home. I was waiting for her to tell me that I had been right all along, that she should have listened the first time. But, she didn’t. You got your stubbornness from her, I think.”

“And maybe she got it from you,” Loxley said with a light smile.

“Yes, I suppose she did.” Honey laughed, quietly, sadly. “Well, one night I snapped. Your father had been seeing her, and, when he came over for dinner, it seemed like he would be proposing soon.”

“Did you dislike my dad?”

“Not really, no. I just wanted an excuse to prove… something… to Brynn. After he left, I reminded her of what had happened the first time. I told her she should listen to me, because I had been right all along. She was furious at me for bringing it up, and said she wanted to be able to make her own decisions. I told her that as long as she was in my house, she was my daughter and I was in charge. That night she left and never came back.” Honey gasped, shuddering, allowing a layer of regret to peel away, before continuing.

“She called once, about a year before the accident. I refused to answer, I was still so angry. I didn’t know it at the time, but it must have been around when you were born. I missed my last opportunity to make up with my daughter. I wanted to be right, and I chose that over my love for her. I didn’t know I would never have another chance. I can never make it up, or tell her how much I love her.” Honey pressed a hand to her mouth.

Loxley took her hand. For several minutes, the only sound was the creaking of their chairs. Finally, Loxley spoke.

“I think Mom knew.”

Honey simply squeezed her hand.

Little children, let us not love in word or talk but in deed and in truth.

1 John 3:18 ESV

This flash-fiction story was written by Lydia Snyder. Lydia has been a story-lover for as long as she can remember, often found reading books or writing. She is thrilled to be making a difference by inspiring others to take part in the best story ever - God’s story. Lydia lives with her three wonderful siblings and two amazing parents.