Photo Credit: Sunday Photo Fiction
“To Mom and Dad…”
Harley started reading his sole son’s much-awaited letter.
The phone communications always ended abruptly on account of “urgent work”.
“Martha, does our son love us anymore?“
Harley’s voice sounded tired while calling out.
“I can’t even see a ‘dear’ expression in his note.“
Martha beheld him silently.
“…We are busy…” 78 years old Harley sighed.
“…We purchased ourselves a new home at Portland.”
“Wow!” Harley was seen smiling.
“It’s superbly cozy…fully equipped four bedroom home, the type our place has ne’er seen. “
“Martha, did our son really write this? Does he think Seattle is a behindhand place? Between, he hasn’t even asked about us so far.”
“He might be busy, might have scribbled it in the middle of work or sleep…For all that, he wrote to us, right?” There was a comforting tone in her words.
“Hmmm….see, he has left us the address, but no phone number…Our son says…“
Harley read aloud.
“….You are welcome to come over any time. “
Harley and Martha exchanged looks.
Twelve days later they were seen arriving at the Seattle airport for next flight to Portland.
(Word count: 189)