Yellow nostalgia

The day was young and Dorothy had committed herself to her to-do list, determined not to get tripped by anything this time. She had at last gotten a Saturday all to herself. The husband and kids had set out for a weekend camping and for once, she wouldn't have to slice and dice her time. Tickle, the family's most adored member, of course stayed behind to tail her. He always had a secret access to his hooman momma's heart.  

Dorothy took a long last sip of her morning coffee and put the newspaper down. Tickle, sitting at her feet, lazily raised one eye and immediately sunk back to basking in the morning sun. Dorothy petted him and stood up. First she'd head to the grocers. She had promised the boys a cake on their return, but was running low on unsalted butter and vanilla essence. At 11, she had an appointment at the salon and at 3pm, a routine visit to the dentist. She also wanted to make a halt at the new nursery, just a 15-minute drive from home. The veranda, she thought, could do with some more potted plants.

Mentally glossing over the list, Dorothy stepped into her bedroom. The curtains were still on and the room felt extra dark. And bam, she stubbed her foot against the desk, a spot she was so familiar with that it seemed utterly ridiculous. Dorothy plonked on floor, holding tight her baby toe. The pain was sharp and she was irate. One Saturday after so long, and now this. Not wasting any sympathy on herself, Dorothy pushed forward to stand up, when something lying on the floor clutched her attention. 

It was a photograph and she immediately knew which one. But how did it even land there? Dorothy gently pulled it out and turned it over. It was a moment captured in black and white, Dorothy with her mom from countless summers ago. Age had crawled into the picture and it had acquired a yellow tint. Ever since her mom's passing, this one frame travelled with her, a place of warmth she'd turn to in her darkest hours. Dorothy sat staring at the picture, the pain in her toe felt nothing in comparison to the sudden sting of tears. 

The yellow tint alluded to the vast stretch of time she had been a motherless daughter and, suddenly, it was a deluge of yellow nostalgia. Did the photo ride the morning breeze to find Dorothy? Sitting with an aching heart and a hurting toe, that's how she wished to imagine. 

Image by Ruiterlijk from Pixabay