Linda Morisson smiled and brushed a gray strand of hair out of her delicate face. She was looking at the picture beside her bed. The old family picture, taken almost 25 years ago. Taken before Jack had died. Jack, the father of her two children.
It had been hard on Linda when she heard the news. Jack had faced danger every single day at work, being a firefighter, but they had come to accept it, living a typical life. The fateful day Jack had gone had felt like any other day. Until he didn't come home right away. She had tried to calm herself, there were many logical explanations to Jack's tardiness. But when the red car drove up to the curb, her worst fears had been confirmed.
The children had a really tough time for a while after the accident. They didn't like to be apart from their mother, even during the night, in fear another parent would be taken from them. The three slept in the same bed for 4 months. Linda hadn't mind. It disturbed her to have to sleep by herself in a queen sized bed. Anytime either of them heard any sirens, smelt smoke or saw fire, they were reminded of the tragedy.
Linda sat down on the old chair in her kitchen, sipping from her coffee cup. She jotted a few notes on her shopping list, read the morning paper, and did the dishes. At a little past 10, her daughter Katie had called. At 30, she was a successful accountant. She was on maternity leave at the present and informed her mother that she would be visiting with the family this weekend.