Searching for Tomorrow (Tomorrows) by Katie Mac, Kathryn McNeill Crane
Authors: Katie Mac, Kathryn McNeill Crane
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Land that has slept through the winter sprouts green overnight, seeming to grow before your very eyes. Wildflowers dot the scenery, painting the roadsides and hills with splashes of vibrant living color, bringing to mind how a careless child might flick random splotches of paint onto a canvas. The days find plenty of sunlight to bring warmth to the land, making it difficult for a person to stay inside. The nights once again bring the temperature down, making bonfires with s’mores a popular pastime. Big city lights do not exist here to block out the sky, so it is very common to find folks out stargazing. Most kids around here know the difference between Aquarius, Cancer, and Taurus, and no, I am not talking about astrology.
Autumn finds the foliage slowly changing colors. The vibra nt green of the mountains shifts over to bursts of gleaming oranges, radiant reds and luminous yellows. It seems as if God Himself decided to wash the green off His paintbrush and reload it with brilliant hues, and almost overnight, the landscape changes. The air becomes crisp, and the smell of apples and pumpkins bears the evidence that fall has arrived. The sound of children’s laughter rings out as they make the most of what little is left of daylight as the afternoon quickly transitions to evening. Moms and dads know that soon enough, winter will be upon us, and everyone will take shelter inside, hiding from the cold wind, snow, and ice. Shop owners know that the tourist business will trickle to nothing, and prepare once again to close their doors for off-season.
The days have somehow bled into w eeks and before I know it, the end of the school year is just around the corner. Mother Tidwell has managed to hold firm to her declaration and has seemingly abandoned the girls and me. Though her presence is overbearing, I have always counted on her being around to help with the girls. Mom still teaches third grade, and both Dad and Liam are self-employed and depend on the income that comes from their work. Almost all of those wages come during season, and because they will drop anything to help me out, I try to keep my requests at a minimum. As a single mom in a small town, I’ve found that childcare options are slim to none. When school is in session, I don’t have to worry because Maggie’s preschool is right next to Annie and Bekah’s school. I’ll admit, though, that I have struggled with finding someone to help with the kids during holidays, and teacher workdays, and in the past, Mother Tidwell has always been a convenient option for me.
Monday is Memorial Day . There is no way that I can get off work because our little town will be full of tourists and the restaurants will be booked solid with reservations. Charlie has me scheduled at Flipsides for the lunch crowd and at Ruka’s Table for dinner. My two best friends are going camping with their families over the holiday. Liam is watching the girls for me Friday evening, and my parents will have them on Saturday and Sunday. I really hate to ask one of them to cover the girls for me on Monday too, because since the incident with Mother Tidwell, I have had to rely on them a lot more than usual. As I vacuum the living area, I try to work up the desire to call Mother Tidwell to ask for her help. I have such a bad habit of talking to myself, but sometimes, it really helps me work through things.
As I move the armchair to clean under it, the thoughts just start pouring out of my head. Oh, I can just hear it now. From the start of my relationship with Tripp, long before either of us knew what love was, I have never been quite good enough. I am disrespectful. I carry the rugs to the door, hoping that I will remember to shake them out and put them back before the girls get home.
I am lazy and not motivated to make anything of myself . And let’s not forget, I’m also a failure at housekeeping and motherhood, and was a horrible, horrible wife to Tripp. It doesn’t matter what I say
Autumn finds the foliage slowly changing colors. The vibra nt green of the mountains shifts over to bursts of gleaming oranges, radiant reds and luminous yellows. It seems as if God Himself decided to wash the green off His paintbrush and reload it with brilliant hues, and almost overnight, the landscape changes. The air becomes crisp, and the smell of apples and pumpkins bears the evidence that fall has arrived. The sound of children’s laughter rings out as they make the most of what little is left of daylight as the afternoon quickly transitions to evening. Moms and dads know that soon enough, winter will be upon us, and everyone will take shelter inside, hiding from the cold wind, snow, and ice. Shop owners know that the tourist business will trickle to nothing, and prepare once again to close their doors for off-season.
The days have somehow bled into w eeks and before I know it, the end of the school year is just around the corner. Mother Tidwell has managed to hold firm to her declaration and has seemingly abandoned the girls and me. Though her presence is overbearing, I have always counted on her being around to help with the girls. Mom still teaches third grade, and both Dad and Liam are self-employed and depend on the income that comes from their work. Almost all of those wages come during season, and because they will drop anything to help me out, I try to keep my requests at a minimum. As a single mom in a small town, I’ve found that childcare options are slim to none. When school is in session, I don’t have to worry because Maggie’s preschool is right next to Annie and Bekah’s school. I’ll admit, though, that I have struggled with finding someone to help with the kids during holidays, and teacher workdays, and in the past, Mother Tidwell has always been a convenient option for me.
Monday is Memorial Day . There is no way that I can get off work because our little town will be full of tourists and the restaurants will be booked solid with reservations. Charlie has me scheduled at Flipsides for the lunch crowd and at Ruka’s Table for dinner. My two best friends are going camping with their families over the holiday. Liam is watching the girls for me Friday evening, and my parents will have them on Saturday and Sunday. I really hate to ask one of them to cover the girls for me on Monday too, because since the incident with Mother Tidwell, I have had to rely on them a lot more than usual. As I vacuum the living area, I try to work up the desire to call Mother Tidwell to ask for her help. I have such a bad habit of talking to myself, but sometimes, it really helps me work through things.
As I move the armchair to clean under it, the thoughts just start pouring out of my head. Oh, I can just hear it now. From the start of my relationship with Tripp, long before either of us knew what love was, I have never been quite good enough. I am disrespectful. I carry the rugs to the door, hoping that I will remember to shake them out and put them back before the girls get home.
I am lazy and not motivated to make anything of myself . And let’s not forget, I’m also a failure at housekeeping and motherhood, and was a horrible, horrible wife to Tripp. It doesn’t matter what I say
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