A-Z challenge: Today is letter I!
Jenna’s mother sat on the edge of her bed, sifting through mail she’d brought her from the post office, on her weekly visit.
That’s where she found her most days when Jenna arrived, sitting or napping on her bed. Half made, the teal spread dragging on the floor.
“It’s cruel. I don’t have to go that far. Just one block, to the market and post office.”
Jenna had stood beside her mother at the DMV window as her mother, with an arthritic index finger, drew on the counter a map of that one block. How she only had to drive up her street, turn right, go one block, and turn left into the parking lot where was both the market and the post office.
After slamming her car into the wall of a carpet store, Marge had been called in to be road tested. She’d failed miserably.
The DMV lady had respectfully but dully waited for the map-drawing session to be over, and for her mother to hand over her license.
“They should have separate laws for the elderly,” her mother went on, flipping angrily through a Victoria Secret catalogue. As if her mother ever ordered from Victoria Secret. “That at least we can drive a single block. Just to get food.” She tossed the catalogue across the bed. “And our junk mail.”
Jenna was left speechless as she had been at the DMV. Standing next to her mother, watching her draw that invisible map across the grey formica counter. The kind of speechlessness when you really did wish there was actually something you could say.