Her sadness and guilt could not contain her. In the coming of the storm, she decided to face her demons. Her mother sat silent, listening to the radio in the kitchen. She had just finished her coffee. Crumbs sprinkled on the counter; the last reamnints of her buttered toast. Dried tears still dropped under her tired eyes. The sleepless night was a the last of many. Pacing the halls, under the creaking hardwood floors, her well cared for and always polished black shoes with wooden soles carried her from one side of the house to the other, like a drill Sargent examining his men. Her daughter had become a disaster. Late nights. Boys. Liquor. Rock ‘n’ roll. How would she ever explain it to the church committee? How could she ever face the other mothers in the community? She took all this as a personal reflection of a woman and mother. It would end tonight and she was very unaware.

The winds continued to increase and the clouds swirled, changing direction and color and shape. The girl looked up to the sky wondering how she had gotten to this point – death being the only answer she could arrive at. Will this be the end? Will my mother miss me when I am gone? Maybe it is for the best, she concluded and continue to walk further into the field of wheat.

She stopped. She waited. The temperature dropped. She could hear tree limbs crack and fall in the distance. She could see the mouth of the storm. It was right out in front of her. The sky continued to darken until the day felt like night.

Mother stepped out onto the white washed porch as the sky changed. The radio crackling in the kitchen. A news bullion about the fierce weather approaching. Mother had prayed while in the kitchen. She prayed for strength and understanding and forgiveness. She loved her daughter ever so much, even after being hurt by her so badly. She had forgiven her for all her transgressions and sins.