You know how to light a match, don’t you?
I looked up at her and lied.
She gave me the book of matches and watched me slowly draw the bud against the scratch. She grabbed it back, You’ve got to go fast, see? Boom! Zip! She laughed and gave me the lit match with her brown wrinkled hands.
Put it in that hole there. See the flames? You just lit the grill! Now you can cook steakettes whenever you want. I confidently dropped the frozen patties from the butcher paper onto the grate.
Little girls aren’t allowed to touch matches.
please continue reading at You Are Here Stories
[This story was featured at You Are Here Stories 10/11/16.]
- The End of Pretending – my secret questions about faith were answered in the Psalms
- The Waves – 20 Years of Marriage – my secret beliefs about myself threatened to ruin us
©Aimee Fritz & Family Compassion Focus, 2016.