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by linda Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Other · Other · #647488
Sometimes, we find ourselves given something we are not prepared to handle.
It's raining again. According to the weather channel, it's not going to let up for another three days.

Tossing her crayola aside, the little girl walked out to the hall, looking right and left for her mother. Not there. She tiptoed up to her mother's door. Slowly squatting down, she roared loudly as she pushed the door open. Not there. That's weird. Just as she begins to make her way back to the living room, lightning streaks across the sky and a loud thunder shakes the house. The little girl darts to her room with eyes stained with tears. Quickly trying to cover herself with her blanket, the little girl starts to softly weep for her mother.

Then suddenly, strong gentle arms surround her and her blanket as a man's soothing voice called out her name.

"Gracie, it's daddy. I'm so sorry, baby. I was in the garage getting some boxes. I saw you were coloring. It was just going to be a sec. Gracie, don't cry. Daddy's here now. It's okay."

An hour later, after the man had put the girl to sleep and the storm subsided, he enters his room. Looking around sadly, he picks up a hair brush and begins to cry.

"Lord, please give me strength. I cannot do this on my own."

Down stairs, the little girl opened her eyes and got out of bed. She knelt down. In a small voice she whispers, "Mommy, I miss you so much. Please come back home. You could ask God for a vacation and come visit dad and me. I promise to be good. I miss you so much. Please mommy, come home."
© Copyright 2003 linda (strawbrari at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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