Moss, is humor writer from Tennessee. She writes a
weekly human interest column about daily life and the funny
things that happen to everyone.
She has written for the Daily News of Kingsport, Griffin Journal,
Oakridge Now, Atlanta Woman Magazine, Aberdeen Examiner, Angleton
Advocate, and Smyrna AM, a supplement of the Murfreesboro Daily News
Journal. She has been
published by Voyageur Press, McGraw Hill, and the good folks
at Guidepost Books. Her articles have appeared in
numerous anthologies and other publications, both in print and online.
She is a
former board member and past Editor of the Columnists.com, website of the National Society of Newspaper
oldest and largest professional organization
for columnists. She is the Web Editor of
Humorists.com and a founder of the Southern Humorists writers'
organization. She is writer, editor, and webmaster of HumorColumnist.com.
To carry her weekly column in your
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article, please contact her. It's that easy.
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Online Since 1999
joy! My grandson has gone home. So, why do I feel as if he is still
here? I hear a noise and think it is the door, and that he is running
in and out of the house again. Then I remember... it canít be him
because he went home yesterday.
There are fingerprints on the glass in the storm door. I could have
sworn it was clean. I wipe them off and turn quickly to make sure they
do not magically reappear, like they do when heís around.
My feet stick to the floor as I walk across the kitchen and I remember
how he spilled juice the other day. I though I had mopped it all up,
but I must have missed part of it. Little messes help me remember that
he was here.
I find a forgotten toy. Only yesterday blocks created castles, tiny
cars lined up to make a parking lot, and dinosaurs stalked the living
room. Today there is only one forgotten car lost under the edge of a
chair. The house is a house again.
The cat has returned from her hiding place under the bed, behind the
desk, on top of the hutch, or wherever it is she goes to escape the
terror of being hugged to death by a five year old. When my
grandson is here, we nearly forget we have a cat.
The house is strangely quiet. When he is around the noise never
ceases, at least until he is asleep. He talks, asks questions by the
dozens, and on the rare occasions when he cannot think of something to
say, he just makes noise. A whistle, a hum, a squeal or an
unidentified sound from the back of the throat will do -- as long as
itís a noise.
The television set is still turned to his favorite cartoon channel. I
watch the Rug Rats, before I realize that I donít have to watch
cartoons because he isnít here. Thank goodness, I can watch
what I want to now!
His shoes are by the door where he abandoned them, choosing to run
around in sock feet. The house is so full of the childís
possessions that it takes a while for him to go away entirely, even
when he is not here.
My refrigerator is well stocked with fruity-flavored drinks. The box
of chocolate breakfast cereal bars is empty. What will I do with the
extra milk in the fridge? I only drink 2% milk myself. How strange to
know that I can fix adult food again instead of hot dogs and potato
chips with ketchup.
The disk with his favorite computer game is still in the CD-ROM. Thank
goodness he didnít try to remove it without remembering to exit
first again. I wipe fingerprints from the screen and clean the sticky
Why does he get everything so sticky? Itís because
he is five years old, of course. What other reason do I need?
Laughter floats in from another room... but it is only the television
set. It's nice to be able to relax, not to have to worry about whether
he is splashing water in the bathroom, sneaking cheese for the dog, or
climbing on the backs of furniture.
Yes, it really is nice to have my calm, clean house
back again. I listen to the silence, the empty silence, the cold and
empty silence, and and then I realize....
I can't wait until he comes back!
Copyright 2008 Sheila Moss
Nashville, TN 37219
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