The last time, everything fit in three duffles…
That was all they could salvage from their home after Hurricane Katrina. She had grown up in that house, had loved and lost a husband while living there, and was raising her two children in it. But nature had shown no mercy.
Becca and her children were luckier than many displaced by the hurricane. They were still able to live in their beloved New Orleans. Instead of living in a FEMA tent, they had been able to move into the top floor of her grandparents’ house in the Quarter.
Now, her grandfather was gone, her grandmother was in a nursing home, and their home sold. It was time to make a new start in a house built for them by Habitat for Humanity. Thanks to the money left to her by her grandfather, they had all new furniture, too.
She shut the balcony door, picked up her purse and walked downstairs. As she locked the front door for the last time, her children started tugging on her arm. “Come on, mom, let’s go!” She laughed and swung their arms as they walked to the car.
This is my story for Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner, Week #5, hosted by Roger Shipp. Each week he provides a picture prompt and a starting line or phrase for inspiration to write a story of 200 words or less.
To read other stories created by some amazing writers, click HERE.