Image Courtesy of ClipArtBest.com
“I was young once. I remember my mother making polenta before going to church. Later we rolled up the rugs and held dances.”
A smile crossed my father-in-law’s wrinkled face. I pictured him in a room glowing with firelight and dreams. Tango, waltz and foxtrot; somewhere a pretty girl waiting.
Note: This post was written and inspired by a writing challenge issued by wordpress to tell a story in exactly fifty words. I thank them for bringing this poignant memory to mind. For more on this challenge click here.