By Jim Freeze
Autumn had passed and then the snow of winter. In the spring when the days grew warm and sunny, my friends and I would go out to play in the woods behind the house. Before we knew it there was a bright, full moon in the clear sky, and the sun set was still shining faintly in the West.
Suddenly, my awareness would become fixed on her rosy red cheeks, and her eyes sparkled as she spoke warm persuasive words to me. Then, like a flake of wonderment, there it was again, that bewitching smile as she faded away into the whispering tree. Oh, how much I miss my mom and how my memories of her seem to never fade. Those timeless moments are a twinkling of dreamlike time, always available to me, but only if I’m paying attention.
Jim Freeze is seventy-six years old, retired and widowed. He was happily married for fifty-four years and has two grown sons. He began writing in early 2012 to have something to do. His short stories have been featured in many publications including—–(Brilliant Flash Fiction, Calliope Magazine, The Original Writer and Literally Stories.)
The Birdseed 