Torn Exposure by Tommia Wright

(A rambling tripped upon by serious cleaning.)

Her uncle tore the picture in half before tossing it over his shoulder, one half landing on the unfinished quilt and the other half in the garbage. Leave it to her uncle to grab the garbage on the way out; yelling over his shoulder, “I’ve a more colorful picture of that woman,” heavy footfalls down the stairs.

Meryl gathered the material, photo fragment included, and returned to her room. It wasn’t her fault that her uncle couldn’t find work while she and her aunt took care of the basics. It wasn’t her fault that she was university-bound, with a scholarship in hand. It wasn’t her fault she was ‘sentenced’ where she was.

Meryl’s parents kept to the basics, with core values being a secondary cornerstone alongside the catechism. She learned to be resourceful, independent, and practical.

If only the law agreed.

Two more years to finish her diploma and associates degree, move out of the house and attempt to follow in her grandmother’s footsteps. The adventures written down in the diaries and letters, the latter kept between the pages of dozens of photo albums filled with travels, had been Meryl’s preferred reading, just before the classics and second to the family heirloom safe in her possession. How ironic that Meryl’s father was her age when his mother had passed, her age when she was tasked with making arrangements for both of her parents.

That was the past in faded black/white and gray. Contemplating the top stitch to the quilt, in its colorful autumn palate, Meryl was determined to stay the course of her hopeful future.