Emma

Emma carefully slit the envelope with the antique silver letter knife. Her stiff fingers fumbled with the crisply folded vellum.  The embossed letterhead read D. L. Williams III Attorney at Law; her one and only son. When she smiled, the red lipstick bled through the edge of her lips.
         “Mother,” the letter began.  Emma frowned at the formal greeting and the typed pages rather than the wonderful cursive penmanship she had taught him. “It has been determined by your doctor that you cannot live alone in your house.  You need to have more constant care than just Anna, who is not a young woman either. It seems wasteful to pay for the upkeep of that big of a house for two women.’
         Her sight blurred as tears welled and spilled on to the wrinkled cheeks and ran down to the pearls aound her neck.  This was her home for 60 years.  There was no reason to leave it. She had it remodeled a few years ago to accommodate her wheel chair. The colors and accents were right of out the pages of a Southern Living Magazine.  What did it matter that she spent her money on its upkeep, it was her money.  She read on anxious to find his solution to the problem, maybe she would be moving in with her son and his family.
         “I have checked into Mir Del Sol Adult Living Center, where many others of your age and status are staying. They have fine facilities.” He wasn’t inviting her to live with him. The assisted living home was hours from his house, she wouldn’t even see her grandchildren as often as she did now.  Her heart hurt. She closed her eyes for a moment feeling sorrow and hurt for her son.
         “Anna, come quickly!" She spoke into the intecom next to her chair.
         She heard the slow clop of shoes as they made their way to her room.  “Que pasa Ms. Emma?”
         “Anna this letter was sent two days ago and D.L will be here in three days.  We made it just in time.  Has the furniture been moved and the antiques sent to the auction?”
         “Si, tonight we well drive to the Gallery and watch the collection being sold.”
         “One good thing about being so far from D.L . and his lack of interest in my “junk” as he calls it.  He won’t have heard about the sale.”  She patted her white French roll tucking an imaginary loose curl in its place.
         “Grandma, we’re here!” A young voice yelled at the top if his lungs from the front of the house.  Anna and Emma smiled at each other; all tears were dried, as they heard small feet running on the shining teakwood floor.
         Two young, dark haired, boys slid to a halt at the foot of Emma’s wheelchair. “Hi, Ms. Emma. Hi Grandma,” they shouted together. One of the boys hugged his grandmother Anna; the other sat on the floor and stared right at Emma.
         “Momma had gradjated.” He gave her a little nod then looked at his mother and father standing at the doorway.
         “Si, I have and gracias for all you have done for us.” She smoothed the nurse’s uniform and touched the insignia on her collar. Her husband looked on proudly.
         “Nonsense Teresa, you, Marco and the boys have saved my life and given me something to look forward to.  The papers you and Marco signed yesterday at the Lawyers are filed. Knowing that you all will be taken care of after I am gone,  not to soon I hope, is a great comfort.  I just have one thing to say, “Welcome to your new home Reagan family.”