You can’t go out tonight, Mamma says.

The wind howls and shrieks and tears at the house. I pretend I’m in a pirate ship.

BAD WEATHER BY RE GREENE 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 11

The wind howls and shrieks and tears at the house. The milk in my bowl of cereal ripples as the house shakes. I pretend I’m in a pirate ship.

“You can’t go out tonight,” Mamma A says. She paces from the refrigerator to the hall closet to the cupboard.

“I’ve drove through worse. I’ll take the truck,” Mamma B says. She wears her yellow dress and shoes. She reminds me of sunshine.

“Please don’t go out tonight. Stay here with us; we’ll have a family night.” Mamma A has her arms around Mamma B’s neck and gives her a little kiss.

I put my hand over my eye and pretend I have an eye-patch. Our ship groans.

“You know I have to go. I have obligations. The other mothers will be expecting me. Besides, I made brownies for the meeting.”

“Call in sick; call in and tell them the storm’s too bad; it is.”

I use my spoon as a hook. Mamma B goes to the closet and gets her p…