‘She wants to see you,’ my brother said, his faint voice almost lost within the crackles of the long-distance line.
I hadn’t spoken to my younger brother in two years; it had been nearer twenty-five since I’d seen our mother, yet the memories of that spring morning remained clear.
‘You’re too good for her, and that family,’ she’d insisted, bitter, angry tears reddening her eyes.
She never did come to the wedding, never did see her our three girls grow up. She had other children, ones who hadn’t disappointed her.
‘She’s dying’ my brother, continued. ‘She wants to say she’s sorry.’
These words form my entry into Friday Fictioneers photo prompt challenge.
It’s an old prompt, but a new story. No re-treads on here!