The Bighead
“Charity exclaimed. She threw her arms up. The woman who’d come out onto the porch looked about sixty. Snow-white hair, attractive in spite of her age, a warm smile set into subtly weathered facial features. She was wearing a threadbare white summer dress and, quite proverbially, black workboots. Cool blue eyes seemed to fasten on them as they got out of the Miata.
The woman burst immediately into tears right there on the old porch.
Charity stood in time-jag. The world stopped. Everything she wa...s looking at seemed to freeze, and suddenly she was looking at herself more than anything else. No, she hadn’t known at all how she felt about coming back, nor had she known how she’d feel about seeing Annie. Luntville, her aunt, this house—they were all the broken shards of her life, best left behind with everything else, the deeper things: her father’s death, her mother’s mental problems and eventual suicide, parents she’d never known, shadows. But now, as she stood amid this freeze frame of recollection, she knew at once that she’d done the right thing.MoreLess
The woman burst immediately into tears right there on the old porch.
Charity stood in time-jag. The world stopped. Everything she wa...s looking at seemed to freeze, and suddenly she was looking at herself more than anything else. No, she hadn’t known at all how she felt about coming back, nor had she known how she’d feel about seeing Annie. Luntville, her aunt, this house—they were all the broken shards of her life, best left behind with everything else, the deeper things: her father’s death, her mother’s mental problems and eventual suicide, parents she’d never known, shadows. But now, as she stood amid this freeze frame of recollection, she knew at once that she’d done the right thing.MoreLess
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