The Family Home

The Family Home

Susan sat on the porch of her childhood home watching the clouds go by. Dad had been gone for years, Mom recently passed, and now it was up to Susan to decide what to do with it.

Susan had tried for years to get her mother to move to Arizona with her and her family. Mom would come for long visits but never wanted to give up this house. It was full of memories, she’d say. Susan grew up here, but hadn’t really felt connected for years, yet somehow, now that it was time, she was having trouble letting it go.

Today as she wandered through she’d seen things; the shelves her Dad had built for her room, the mantle where they hung Christmas stockings, that crack in the garage door from her first driving lesson. Dozens of little things, memories that made her finally understand her mother’s reluctance to leave.

‘Oh Mum,’ she thought, ‘if only you could tell me what to do.’

The clouds had been getting darker and it looked as if it would rain any second. Susan had just started to get up when a bolt of lightning screeched down hitting the utility pole out front. Bright flashes of yellow and green sparks flew out, then a huge puff of black smoke. Susan held her breath, running into the house just before the cloud of smoke engulfed it.

As she pulled out her phone to report it to the fire department, she noticed she had a message. After her call, she pushed the button to hear the message. “Hi, honey,” said a soft, woman’s voice, “Did you get my message earlier?”

It had to be a wrong number… or did it? The next day Susan put the house on the market.