family

Tony’s baby

Parenthood hit Tony Lawson like a summer storm. Yes, very much like that. A sudden, unexpected stroke of fury, a violent collision of opposing fronts.

“Tony, you jerk, meet your son.”

The sky was cloudless above the executive lot, but the air crackled around the words.

Tony fumbled his iPhone, and it fell toward the brilliant concrete.

He caught it, held it against his heart.

There stood Sandra behind his silver S-Class, rolling a big navy-blue stroller forward a few inches and then pulling it back, coming closer each time to the rear-bumper of the coupe.

My baby! he thought.

I wrote this story for the 100 Word Challenge: “Parent” at Thin Spiral Notebook.

Remembering My Dad

By Jim Anderson

My father was a Flint guy, Great Depression edition — blue-collar even when he was in management, hands-on, patriotic, optimistic, and altogether typical of his generation. As a young man, he played baseball, drank beer, smoked whatever cigarettes he could afford, and helped save the world for democracy. [Read more…] about Remembering My Dad

Ranson’s Beard

By Jim Anderson

Ranson’s beard was older than his daughter, the corporate attorney who’d moved to Oregon to get as far from him as North America allowed.

He wasn’t shaving without due consideration. He’d grown it the summer of Lillian’s pregnancy. He was teaching philosophy in Ohio, and working on his book. One day he stopped at a produce stand, and the be-whiskered farmer who sold him sweet corn provided the inspiration. Lillian never liked facial hair. Their divorce was as much about that as anything.

Ranson kept the beard all through his marriage to Samantha.

Now it was time for the razor.

I wrote this story for the 100 Word Challenge #378 at Velvet Verbosity.

His Sainted Mother

By Jim Anderson

His sainted mother needed him. Big surprise! The message didn’t say what for. It didn’t say “sainted,” either, but Susan read that into it. “Walter, this is your mother. I need you.” That was all. Not even “please call,” but that was implied, too. Of course you need him, dear. You’re 85 and alone. You need Walter and six more like him. Susan smiled. Yes, seven Walters should be enough to meet any woman’s needs. Still smiling, she pressed delete. She would tell Walter to call his mother, as she told him almost every day. The need would be implied.

I wrote this story for the 100 Word Challenge #335 at Velvet Verbosity.