Judy’s throat tightened as she surveyed the remnants of Grandma’s house. She refused to cry. Suck it up, she told herself. It’s just stuff.
David handed her lukewarm coffee in a plastic cup. Courtesy of the Red Cross, he told her.
“It’s my fault, I could have removed Grandma’s things two days ago. Now, everything is gone, just like her.” Words meant more for herself than for David.
”Don’t blame yourself. You had a lot to take care of, with the funeral and all. Besides, it was mostly junk. That woman never threw anything away.”
Judy bit her tongue. She didn’t need an argument over her grandmother’s hoarding habits. David simply didn’t understand that when you grew up during the Depression, everything was useful.
Across the debris field, Judy noticed a gleaming reflection. Nothing but an old piece of metal, but her eye caught something else. Reaching into the grass and mud, Judy pulled out a tiny teacup, in perfect condition. Grandma’s favorite. Judy lovingly wiped off the mud with her tee-shirt, exposing the royal blue and pink rose pattern.
It was true. Storms leave miracles in their wake. Judy let the tears of happiness flow.
Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly challenge to write a 200-word story based on a photo prompt. Many thanks this week Dawn M. Miller for offering the stimulating photo. Although this story is purely fiction, recent personal events and Hurricane Harvey offered lead me in the direction it took. Earlier this week I was in that small Texas town where Harvey made landfall, attending my sister-in-law’s funeral. I doubt much of what she owned survived. Storms are strange and selective creatures. Why it chooses to leave small delicate items like a teacup intact in a sea of destruction is truly a mystery.