A Soul Still Very Much Alive
It was late that night when the phone rang. I had been asleep, but the sound of my mom’s footsteps out in the hall woke me up. A few moments later, just as my mom was picking up the ringing phone, my dad walked out of my parent’s bedroom and turned on the hall light, mumbling something about who would be calling us at this hour of the night. The bright light flooded into my room and hurt my eyes. I figured that I might as well get out of bed and see what was going on.
When I walked into the kitchen, my mom was still on the phone. She was talking in a low voice and was nodding her head solemnly. My dad was standing next to her, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. I sat down in a chair, still half-asleep.
My mom hung up the phone.
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