When Marty Brown died

When Marty Brown died

It was summer and so hot, both my big toes were stubbed from going barefoot and playing in the street. All I wore was underpants, shorts and a top; my hair was in twin ponytails and my bangs were short.
“Is it a party Mom?”
“No, honey, it’s very sad. Mrs. Brown’s son drowned. He was in Pete’s class at Prep.”
Somehow this wasn’t the same as the heroic deaths of the martyrs who lived for eternity in Heaven with God.
This was a Mom who’d be forever sad, a Dad who wasn’t strong but broken, a family with a big hole that would always be there in their happiness.
Fix it, make it right. Make Mrs. Brown smile again with her eyes, not with that tight bright cold smile that flickers across her crumbling face.
Please God.
But I think he was listening to someone more important than me.
Drowned in the deep water of the lake.