Dan walked into the dining room where his mother was writing something down on paper.
“Can I go in the kitchen now?” Asked Dan.
The wind buffeted the house sending creaks and shudders through the old wood. It was the third time today
that Dan had asked to go there.
“I’ve told you no, Dan.”
“But mom, I can see outside better from the window there.” He pointed to the faint light trailing into
the kitchen. More wind plowed into the house. Their heads turned upwards, towards the light from the kitchen.
“You don’t need to see outside. Not right now.”
“What is it, mom?”
Dan’s face turned to quiz his mother.
“Not right now, Dan.
Not right now.”
“This wind’s gonna get us, aint it?”
“There’s no wind that’s gonna get you. You just mind along and get back to playing in the front room.” Mom’s voice took on an urgency.
“Mom, when’s it gonna stop?”
The light was fading from the kitchen and the wind seemed to push night into every corner. Soon she would start the fire. It wasn’t cold yet. But a fire sounded comforting against the wind.