Deja-vu 6/52

100 word project

Deja-vu 6/52

Mom, I dreamt of you last night. You were in our old kitchen, leaning against the wall, talking on our yellow rotary telephone; rubber coil of the handle snaked through your left hand, with a burning cigarette balanced between your right pointer and middle fingers. I’d lose your face behind the smoke for moments at a time like I did all those times when I was kid. I’d wait, hold all my breath for your brown, weary eyes to reappear, then the crinkle of a small smile. The final bow, a wink just for me. You haven’t changed a bit.