The Color of Winter
Copyright© 2011 by Transdelion
Chapter 1
The Color of Winter
Peter was disgusted. He looked out upon the heavily falling snow from inside the big picture window, and he was extremely displeased. He had planned to roll himself down to the post office today to see if his disability check had come in. He could just about get there himself, if the weather permitted, but his arms didn't have the strength to handle pushing his wheelchair through this much snow. Damnation having post polio syndrome.
"Mom," he shouted. He waited. "Mother!" he demanded.
From the dark recesses of the house, he heard faint noises shuffling toward him. His irritation flashed to guilt, and then anger.
The heavy, stooped woman hobbled into the room.
"What, Peter?" she growled peevishly.
"Damn it, Mother, I need you to drive me to the post office," Peter ordered.
"Drive yourself," the tired, old woman snapped.
"Fuck you!" Peter shouted. "It's not my fault fuckhead Sheriff DuckFart busted me for dui and took my van away."
"Sheriff Dworkin to you, big shot, and whose fault is it?" she pointed out. "And why can't you just roll down to the post office all by your lonesome?"
"Look at all the snow, Stupid Ass," Peter humiliated his mother.
Her patience was at an end. "LOOK at me," she hurled at her lazy son. "I am too old for this shit. I cannot do it any more. I can't lift you, I can't push your chair, there is no one to help me out. You are 42 years old. I'm 75. You figure it out. How are you going to do it when I'm gone?" She slowly turned about to leave, then stopped and glared at him. "When are you ever going to try to do for yourself?" She shook her head, then trudged back to the inner rooms. As she went, she turned down her hearing aids so she couldn't hear him call.
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