This is the next 250 words of On The Surface, my current work in progress. You can read the first 250 here. I’ll be getting around to critiquing others’ work tomorrow, too! I didn’t do such a hot job of that last week. :p
Her mother, brother and father exited the car, allowing the chilly, early April breeze to cool the car. Darren, her brother, assisted Pap in getting out of the backseat. His stroke had made it difficult for him to walk, and Darren was tasked with making sure he didn’t fall as they made their way across the uneven field to their grandmother’s headstone. Her mother walked along his other side.
“She still won’t come out here?” Liza heard Pap say.
“She will when she’s ready. It’s better not to fight with her,” her mother was saying, before Darren closed the door, cutting out their voices.
Her father carried a flower box, filled this time with pastel plants to signify the changing season. Pastels were also her grandmother’s favorite, Liza recalled.
It was April 3rd, and she would have been 79 today. They’d been coming here for the past three years, every holiday, birthday, and turn of the season, to decorate the flat stone marking the final resting place of Elizabeth, Liza’s grandmother and the woman from whom she got her own name.
Liza, however, had not been to the actual grave since the day of the funeral, three Februraries ago, when she was a junior in high school.
Also at the plot were her mother’s grandparents, and other relatives who had long since passed on, and her mother always liked to lay something at their stones as well. Liza looked out the window, concentrating on the American flags, while the rest of her family did their thing.
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