She entered the room wondering what it would look like today. Today. How long ago was yesterday? Could 59 years have passed? What had her mother, recently died, have done with her room since she last saw it? The sing of the creaking hinges stirred a memory long lost of her father closing the door with thoughts of the bedtime story still churning in her mind. The same creak of the door closing as she left for school. She expected a pall of dust fitting for the years now gone. Instead, she was shocked. It was as she left it only this morning. Not a speck of dust, the bed still made, Meg, her doll, still seated in the tiny rocking chair, her eyes gazing blankly as if startled at her return.
Her return. Had it really been that long since the cross words between them had caused the permanent, stubborn separation that had lasted now a lifetime? She was sure her mother had erased forever the memory of her own daughter, redecorated the room and moved on, but no, here it was, lovingly kept as it was in that final moment before the split.
Crushing regret washed over her as she realized that she now was an old woman herself. Life had passed her by as she so easily allowed the gulf to widen between herself and her own daughter. The tears burst as, with trembling hands, she reached for the telephone.
I can't take credit for this one folks. It was sent to me by a friend, Hugh Jones.