At The Birthday Supper – Fiction

I wrote this for this week’s   Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle     100 words  (or so)  based on the photo prompt below.  Come join us!

saltAt The Birthday Supper

It was Mother’s birthday. She was 85.  Maybe she’d remember it was her
favorite restaurant.

“Where are all my things?” she asked.

“What things, Mother?   Those things that you didn’t want to leave when you were 50?”

“I remember that birthday.  You took me for supper then, too. I  don’t know why I never left him. Do you remember?”  Mother was cutting an asparagus spear.

“I guess, like he said, he thought you were ethereal and that meant something no one else could ever understand.”

“At the end, he wouldn’t even hold my hand.”

“Don’t look back, Mother.” I squeezed her hand.


photo Copyright – Dawn Q. Landau

20 thoughts on “At The Birthday Supper – Fiction

  1. Well done, Ellespeth! The story is both bitter and sweet: the mother with a bitter memory and the child squeezing her hand for comfort. Somewhat ironic too because the child (I can’t tell if the child is a daughter or son and it doesn’t really matter) wonders if Mother will remember the restaurant, perhaps not prepared for Mother remembering a lot more. It is sad that for some reason we are more inclined to remember the slights and betrayals of years past. Have you seen the film, Away From Her? Julie Christie’s performance of a woman suffering from Alzheimer’s is wonderful. The story is rather painful for everyone suffers, the caregiver (her husband) more so in many ways, but you also see how Christie’s character suffers by not being able to forget a wrong done to her by her husband long ago. Your story reminds me of that struggle.


  2. Ellespeth, The elderly have more time to think about things. Unfortuantely, memories often bring up the little hurts of the past to cast a shadow on the present. I’ve made an effort to forget and forgive, as least to forgive. Well written. —Susan


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