Caribbean Thoughts

by Carol Mitchell

I swear that it was the 100th time she had called my name, pleading, plaintively, “Mommy” from the backseat of the car as I battled traffic to get her to school on time and get back to a 9:15 meeting.

“What do you want!” I snapped. I did not look back, but in my mind’s eye, I could see her little mouth pucker into a disapproving pout.

“Mommy”, she says. “Don’t snap at me, I just wanted to say ‘I love you’.”

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