The Innocence

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It had been 15 years since Rita had seen even a glimpse of the sleepy town of Oyster Ridge Bay. But in the early hours of the morning she found herself staring again into the branches of the large maple overlooking the porch of her old childhood home. From Mom’s large stained glass windows to Dad’s home crafted teeter-totter lonely in the yard, it was the same house she remembered from all those years ago. Lost in the memories she felt the reluctance of return mingled with the overwhelming urge to sit down and cry. Everything was going to be alright.

“Mom, you must be kidding, this is like the cutest house ever. Is this really where you grew up?”

Rita turned to see her 12 years old daughter, Judy, hauling her oversized suitcase up the stone path behind her. She ran her hands through her short auburn hair and pasted a smile across her face right as Judy pulled up next to her and parked herself right on top of her cargo.

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