My Parent's Memories

This is a story I wrote but it is pretty much exactly how it really happened, a few years ago.

                “Oh my God,” Clara said softly. She reached far in and pulled it out. It was a silly piggy-bank sort of thing but in the shape of Snoopy. She got it when she was a kid and hadn’t thought about it in years. One of those things I guess. Clara placed it on top of the old table cloth that was resting on her lap.

                “Glen! Look at this!” She shouted across the hall. Glen poked his head out from the doorway of her sister’s old room. “Glen, look!” Clara held Snoopy above her head. He stared at it for a moment and then walked up slowly.

                “I guess you can have it if you want,” Glen said.
                “No, it was already mine. I just forgot about it.”

                “I’m pretty sure it was mine.”

                “No. No, mom gave it to me after we went to that Mexican Restaurant…The Blue Cactus or something. I’m not making it up, it is really mine. I was just excited so I wanted you to see it.”

                “Okay. Cool.” Glen said before returning to the room he was painting; he looked tired. She kept looking inside the closet. There were all kinds of things. Boxes full of pictures, some sporting trophies and old sporting equipment, board games and blankets along with many different sizes and shapes of baskets. Inside was also an old camera that was probably worth money. Then Clara found a folder filled entirely with used lottery tickets… Clara looked at the folder. Clara examined the tickets, all failures, years of countless failures.

                “Glen! Glen, come here!”

                “Now what?” Glen poked his head out; he now had a little bit of eggshell on his nose.

                “Just come here and look,” she cried. He walked over with his lumbering feet that were always chomping about on the ground as if magnetized.

                “What?” He asked gently. Clara reached up and handed him the folder; her eyes were crystals. He examined the folder and the tickets all yellowed with age.

                “Well, throw it away,” Glen said.

                “But…Isn’t it sad?”

                “Of course it is. But just throw it away.” He put the folder in the big black trash bag sitting next to Clara and then walked away. Clara remained sitting motionlessly; her eyes were crystals.