There once was a boy, who lived in a house with his parents in the middle if the woods. He was very young about 7 years old.
One day, his father told him that he and his mother were going on a walk. They lived a distance away from the town so there was lots
of space to walk around, even though the trees were so thick you could barely see past the land they cleared. It was wintertime, and
the branches on the trees were bare and dull, sprouting from the thick trunks. His mother and father left and said they'd be back in
about an hour. The little boy waited, and while he waited he looked outside from the little round window of his room in the attic. He
could see the boring dirt ground which has never changed and never will. Or so he thought.
He waited for a very long time. He wasn't sure because he didn't have a clock. Finally his father had come home, but his mother
was nowhere to be seen. He asked his father where his mother was, and he didn't answer. He just silently stared at the blank wall as if
he had been forced to do so, as if he couldn't look at his son at all. He turned away and walked into the kitchen. The boy stared at him as he took
out a pot, and then slowly grabbed the long, sharp knife that was in one of the drawers. He started to walk out of the kitchen slowly,
but stopped before he almost left the room. He was looking at the floor, at the carpets ragged threads falling apart.
" Son, go up to your room. Dinner will be ready soon".
"Why do I-"
"Just do it!"
"Ok"
The little boy quickly ran up to his room and locked himself in there
for about an hour. The air smelled of something being roasted. Finally,
his father told him to come down and eat dinner. He sat down at the table
next to his father and ate in silence for quite awhile.
He finally asked his father ," Where did mother go?"
His father stopped eating and sat I silence for a minute. He finally said,
"Why she's right here with us of course".
"No, she's not"
"Son, don't you understand? "
"Understand what father?"
" That your mother is with us right now at the dinner table".
" No she's not. She's not sitting next to you. "
" She might not be sitting at this table, but she is still here".
" We'll if she's not in the chair next to you, then where is she?"
His father looked up at him a teardrop falling from his eye.
" She's on our china plates, covered with a bit of seasoning. Where do
you think we should put the leftovers?"
