Larry Finely was excited about this Mothers’ Day.
He woke up early and put his little bear slippers on and headed to the kitchen to make his mommy some delicious breakfast. He could still feel the cold tile through the rubber soles.
The stove clacked on, just like he’d seen his mommy doing thousands of times. He grabbed two eggs. He put the toast in the toaster. He pulled the bacon from the fridge and smiled. All the while he hummed to himself. “Mommy will be so happy! She will hug and kiss me, and tell me she loves me,” he thought putting the heavy cast iron skillet on the stove, “She will have the best mothers day.”
Larry was such a thoughtful boy and always had such great intentions.
Frank Namder was not excited about this Mothers’ Day.
He woke up early and put on his rubber boots and headed out of his kitchen, leaving on the table his delicious breakfast.
He walked through the wet ash. He could still feel the heat even though the fire was out. And even though he knew what to expect, his jaw locked tight as he saw the charred body balled next to the Finely’s gas stove. One by one he counted the bodies. Sister. Brother. Father. Mother. All still in the remains of their beds. All the while he sighed in himself. He went back the the kitchen and looked at the little 5 year old body of Larry Finely. “Mommy will be so happy! She will hug and kiss me, and tell me she loves me,” he thought Larry must have been thinking. He moved the heavy cast iron skillet off the stove.
Larry was such a thoughtful boy and always had such great intentions.
Little boy, smiles and joy,
Hands so small, heart too big to mention.
Your heart is placed so rightly
In your mind, intention.
Little boy, now nevermore
Hands so small, heart too big to mention.
Fires burn and ignite so brightly,
and burn with good intention.
