image: © Jennifer Pendergast
She sighed; he’d spread his toys all over the floor. Again.
“All his favourites,” she murmured, lovingly placing each back into the battered toy chest.
She remembered how he’d acquired each one: firetruck passed down from great-grandfather Joziah; legos from a Happy Meal at Mikey D’s; Santa head eraser from the very bottom of his Christmas stocking. Had it really been four years?
She turned off the light, and stood for a moment in the door way.
Tommy watched his mother silently crying. “Don’t worry, Mom. I won’t forget. I’ll put them out so we can play again tomorrow night.”