by Laura Bennett
The blue recycle bin swallowed the glass, shattering it into a million small pieces that mingled into anonymity with the rest of the neighborhood’s castoffs. The boys playing basketball nearby did not even look up as she unloaded another case from the back of the silver minivan, then pulled yet another from under the camouflage of baby blankets between the car seats. Trying hard not to rumple the newly pressed navy blue suit, she took great pleasure in the crashing; the wine bottles’ empty chattering together silenced at last. Yesterday, the littlest one had called the liquor store clerk by name... the day before the middle child was found in the garage lining up the pretty glass bottles from big to small, having found them hiding under the green tarp. The oldest took a big sip from the drink parading as juice in a flowered Sigg bottle nested into the minivan’s cup holder. Tomorrow is the New Year, a day for resolutions she thought as she climbed in the minivan and searched for a mint.
Laura Bennett's blog is here.