Time is Ticking
Time is Ticking “BOOM! SMASH!” Another plan shot down over my bedroom… again. Of course I have the highest bedroom in the entire house, so I can hear rain, a stray dog when it’s barking, my brother snoring, and Marissa humming old German folk tunes from her childhood while making me lunch.
Marissa is the family maid, who is also my father’s former assistant. A husky woman in her mid-fifties with a desire to cook, clean and nurture my sister Henrietta, brother Robert and I. “Ruby, lunch is ready!” Marissa said. “Coming!” I respond. When walking down the stairs, I thought: that’s odd … Marissa usually waits for me in the kitchen, but today she stood at the bottom of the stairs smiling, but with a tear droplet on her cheek. “Is there something wrong?” I suspiciously ask. “Of course not! Why would there be?” She noticed the tear and swiftly wiped it away, hoping I wouldn’t notice. I did.
Today is Roma tomato soup for lunch.” I took a small slurp from the spoon and immediately spit it out. “Hot! Hot!” I screamed. I ran straight to the ice box, took , took the milk out and drank straight from the glass bottle. I soon relieved myself of the heat, but the door opened and shut closed.
“William, Jane!” What are you doing home so early from Switzerland?” Marissa said, with a very puzzled face. “Mom, Dad!” I exclaim. “Ruby, dear” My mother, so elegantly and gracefully professes.
My father and mother, although happily married for twenty-three years, are obviously in the middle of an argument and are not even close to solving it. “Sweetheart! Has Marissa been taking good care of you? My father sarcastically chuckles. “As always!” I say. Even though I dearly love both of my parents, I feel that I have a special bond or connection with my father ever since a young age.
“Darling, will you go upstairs and tell your brother and sister to pack as many clothes into their smallest suitcase as they can? The same goes for you as well.” “But dad!” “-Shh! Just go. I will tell
Marissa is the family maid, who is also my father’s former assistant. A husky woman in her mid-fifties with a desire to cook, clean and nurture my sister Henrietta, brother Robert and I. “Ruby, lunch is ready!” Marissa said. “Coming!” I respond. When walking down the stairs, I thought: that’s odd … Marissa usually waits for me in the kitchen, but today she stood at the bottom of the stairs smiling, but with a tear droplet on her cheek. “Is there something wrong?” I suspiciously ask. “Of course not! Why would there be?” She noticed the tear and swiftly wiped it away, hoping I wouldn’t notice. I did.
Today is Roma tomato soup for lunch.” I took a small slurp from the spoon and immediately spit it out. “Hot! Hot!” I screamed. I ran straight to the ice box, took , took the milk out and drank straight from the glass bottle. I soon relieved myself of the heat, but the door opened and shut closed.
“William, Jane!” What are you doing home so early from Switzerland?” Marissa said, with a very puzzled face. “Mom, Dad!” I exclaim. “Ruby, dear” My mother, so elegantly and gracefully professes.
My father and mother, although happily married for twenty-three years, are obviously in the middle of an argument and are not even close to solving it. “Sweetheart! Has Marissa been taking good care of you? My father sarcastically chuckles. “As always!” I say. Even though I dearly love both of my parents, I feel that I have a special bond or connection with my father ever since a young age.
“Darling, will you go upstairs and tell your brother and sister to pack as many clothes into their smallest suitcase as they can? The same goes for you as well.” “But dad!” “-Shh! Just go. I will tell