Motel 6. If there’d been a Motel 1, I’m sure that’s where we would have spent Christmas. No home. No tree. No gifts. No frills, even though Daddy’d finally hit the “Big-Time” in the stock market.
He’d listened to the Lord’s Voice, and as usual, was paralyzed by not having to struggle to juggle bills. We suffered more when he made-then-lost money. The reality of a daddy with schizophrenia. The Voice said he would strike it rich—Oil Wells in Tulsa. We moved. That never happened. We spent the holiday in Motel 6, where they don’t really leave the light on.
By Lisa H. Owens
Just 100 Words
100 Word Stories - October 2020 Photo Prompt
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