I’m seven years old and I can’t stop ruining things. Yesterday I broke my mom’s herringbone necklace. The day before that, it was a buckle of her pocketbook. And today, my juice spilled on the new bedding.
As always, I am very sorry. I tremble over to my mom, clutching the evidence, and show her what I did. She is not happy, but she is not mad. She pulls me into her lap and wipes my tears and together we inspect the damage.
If there’s reckoning after this life for the mistakes we made in it, I hope it’s something like this. I hope the universe pulls me into her lap and combs her fingers through my hair while I tell her what I did. I hope she says, Oh honey, I know you didn’t mean to. Of course I still love you. Yes, I think we can fix it. I think it will all come out in the wash.
Judgment Day By Victoria Hutchins
