Imogen looked around the table at the four small faces. Tim sat just to her right, having shouldered his way past his sisters in order to claim the chair closest to their mother, and he was looking at her with no sign of worry in his seven-year-old face. Next to him Angelica slouched, picking at her cuticles. She was rocking back and forth a bit jerkily and Imogen knew she was kicking her legs under the table, as through propelling herself through the air on a swing. The younger two sat across the table from these older siblings, and Imogen marveled at their capacity, even at three and four, to follow directions. In fact, Charlie and Jill sat holding hands, whispering to each other about some make-believe game Imogen had interrupted them from. She, their mother, cleared her throat and all four children turned to look at them expectantly, and she felt as though she had convoked some international congress instead of Saturday night dinner without their father.

Previous Post
Next Post
Leave a comment

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: