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    One More Winter: A Short Story
    One More Winter: A Short Story
    One More Winter: A Short Story
    Ebook22 pages21 minutes

    One More Winter: A Short Story

    By Rebecca K. O'Connor

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    About this ebook

    Grief is a personal animal. Mary knows this from experience and a lifetime of waiting for permission to let go of her MIA husband and find closure for both her and her daughter, Teresa who is now an adult. Grief has its own course however and closure comes in unexpected ways.

    This story was orginally published in "Phantom Seed".

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherRebecca K. O'Connor
    Release dateMay 27, 2011
    ISBN9781458160140
    One More Winter: A Short Story
    Author

    Rebecca K. O'Connor

    Rebecca K. O’Connor is the author of the award-winning memoir Lift published by Red Hen Press in 2009. She has published essays and short stories in South Dakota Review, Iron Horse Literary Review, Los Angeles Times Magazine, West, divide, The Coachella Review, Phantom Seed and Prime Number Magazine. Her novel, Falcon’s Return was a Holt Medallion Finalist for best first novel and she has published numerous reference books on the natural world.

    Read more from Rebecca K. O'connor

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      Book preview

      One More Winter - Rebecca K. O'Connor

      One More Winter

      Rebecca K. O’Connor

      Published by Blue Sky Writing

      Smashwords Edition

      Copyright 2011, Rebecca K. O’Connor.

      Previously published in Phantom Seed Issue 4, September 2010.

      No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

      ~

      For Jolie

      ~

      One More Winter

      Teresa has been watching me from the gate for at least five minutes, but must think I don’t notice. I’m careful not to turn my face in her direction or change the lift-push rhythm of my broom on the splitting concrete of the drive. It bothers me that she would have to stare like that, wondering if she really wants to talk, but I don’t want to make my daughter any more uncomfortable. I don’t want to glance up and catch the trepidation playing across her face. So I wait for her to make the decision to walk in.

      Why don’t you just hose it down, Mom?

      I shrug and don’t answer, even though there are plenty of answers. It wastes water. It makes the yard muddy and then the house muddy with dog paws. It makes your shoes wet and your feet cold. I prefer the push broom.

      I stopped by this morning, you weren’t here.

      I went for a walk up Gilman Hot Springs Road, I tell her even though I know it’s likely to thicken our conversation with discomfort and disapproval. That road is dangerous, but I love the view of Mystic Lake shimmering past the winter wheat. The lake is receding again. It won’t be there much longer. One more winter, maybe, I say. I don’t want to bicker. I wanted

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