Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: ROAD TRIP (vacation) (07/02/15)
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TITLE: Bubble Gum and Bouncy House | Previous Challenge Entry
By Hannah Gaudette
07/08/15 -
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“Mommy, can we get some candy?” my five year old daughter asks, jerking on my hand and pointing avidly in the direction of the quaint country store which advertises candy.
I sigh heavily and pull back. “No, Elsie. We can't afford that.”
She whines and glances at her twin, Erin, who shrugs. I look to my rugged husband for some kind of moral support. But his face is grave. I turn my focus on the street as we continue walking. Cars and people streak by us, laughing, talking, arguing. They pay us no mind.
Nobody does. No one seems to care. They're in their own worlds.
No one sees that we've lost our home. No one hears our cries to God. We're on our way out of town, hoping for a bit of loose change to grab a taxi – do they even charge coins anymore?
Erin and Elsie can't understand. All they see this as is a vacation – a jaunt to town and back. They know the house is gone, torn from under us because the 'bank said so', as Cliff explained to them, but they can't grasp the reason. They can't comprehend the fact that we're homeless, and I really don't want them to.
“Cliff,” I whisper, “what do you have in the backpack for tonight?”
The strength I've admired in him for the past fifteen years is gone. The fire of hope in his blue-green eyes is naught but flicker, a reflection of what it used to be. The faith is clearly dwindling.
“Crackers,” he whispers gruffly, turning his face to hide the shame. “Some cheese, too. And a little bread.”
I swallow back fury and disdain. Since when do we allow our girls to eat such junk food? With those old crackers and white bread for supper, they might as well have the candy.
“Excuse me?” a hesitant voice speaks up.
An elderly fellow, but not too old, approaches with his hand outstretched. I grumble inwardly at the reality of our inability to help another person in need. God, please!
“I'm sorry, sir,” Cliff says, hand raised. “I'm afraid we can't help you. We don't even have a place for ourselves tonight.”
“God didn't give me hands for takin' things, He gave me hands for givin'. Traveling, are you?” he asks with a wink.
“You might say that.”
“Vacation?”
“Maybe.” Cliff sighs heavily and I feel tears starting to burn my throat.
Silence proceeds until Elsie whines, “Mommy, can we go to the bouncy houses?”
Across the street, a fair sized field has been set up with water slides and bouncy houses. I smile. Time was when we could take our girls there without thinking about it.
“No, Elise,” I start to say, but the man cuts me off.
“Sure, sure, take the child to play!” He laughs and pulls a white envelope out of his pocket. “You folks get yourselves something to eat.”
He walks away and becomes swallowed in the hubbub of the crowds. Cliff looks inside the envelope and his breathing seems to stop. I snatch it from him and peer inside, ignoring Elsie's pull on my coat. Inside, three one-hundred dollar bills smile up at us.
I swallow hard. “Cliff?”
He puts his arm around my shoulder and starts to speak before melting into joyous weeping. My husband never cries, but in this moment, we both are. We fall to our knees on the sidewalk, ignoring the odd looks from passersby.
“Thank you, God,” Cliff murmurers. “Thank you, God . . .”
“What is it, Daddy?” Erin asks.
Cliff looks at the money, then me, then our daughters. “It's what we need for some bubble gum and bouncy houses.” He looks at me. “And a little vacation to see your folks, what do you think?”
I sigh in delight. This is the money we need for the trip. “Girls, how would you like to go see Grammy and Grandpa?”
They squeal in excitement. Then Elsie turns to me with puppy-eyes. “Can we go to the bouncy house, first?”
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Well done.