I pulled the refrigerator door open and looked for possible snacks. Mom, energetically kneading a large ball of bread dough at the kitchen counter, asked without pausing, “What are you looking for?”
Reaching for a plastic-covered metal bowl on the middle shelf, I announced, “I want the leftover chocolate tapioca pudding.”
Still kneading, Mom protested, “I thought that could be dessert with our next meal.”
Looking at the contents of the bowl, I said doubtfully, “It doesn’t look like there’s enough for everybody.”
Mom rapidly cut and rolled small balls of dough for buns as she answered, “Someone must have snacked on the pudding last night after supper. Go ahead then, eat the rest of it.”
With the bowl in one hand, I slammed the refrigerator door shut. Until now, I thought that the round-shouldered refrigerator was large. Suddenly, I realized that I had grown taller than it. Dropping down onto a red vinyl and chrome chair at our kitchen table, I commented with mixed emotions, “Mom, I’m getting really tall.”
Turning away from the pans of raising buns, Mom said, “You’ve grown like a weed the last few months. Ever since you started fifth grade. I’ve been sewing new school dresses for you every week, trying to keep up.”
Putting down a spoonful of pudding, I worriedly questioned, “Is that normal? How tall am I going to get?”
Mom reassured me that I’d grow as tall as the other girls in the family. Daddy walked into the kitchen then, and announced, “I’m going into town to grind oats for cow feed. Do you need me to get you anything?”
“Yes,” Mom said, “Bring meat home from the locker. I want a roast and two packages of hamburger.” Daddy nodded agreeably as he turned to leave.
Life Lines 