Shelby

Linda and Kevin Evans lived in their newly acquired suburban home with their five-year-old son, Jason, and two-year-old daughter, Shelby.  They were a typical family. 

Each weekday morning, Kevin was off early to commute to his job at a large corporate office downtown.  Soon after he left, the sitter, Babs, arrived to watch Shelby.  Linda then left for her part-time job at the library, dropping Jason off at kindergarten on the way.

At noontime, Linda would leave the library, pick up Jason and return home to dismiss the babysitter and continue working to get the house in order and everything arranged.

As soon as the necessary clothes, linens, dishes and cookware were installed in their new locations, Linda searched for a good environment for her many houseplants. 

Deciding on a southeastern picture window in the living room as the best spot, she set up the long, low table Kevin had built for her years earlier and began arranging the plants on its surface.  For the few left over, she chose the windowsill above the kitchen sink.  This should be a good spot for those that love the humidity.  When all of the pots occupied their new places, she stood back and admired the arrangement.  They should do quite well there.

A squeal from the backyard drew her attention outside the window where Jason was trying for a new height record on the swings while Shelby created a mountainous terrain in the sandbox over which her toy dinosaurs roamed.  Linda smiled as she noted that the little girl had stuck twigs into the hills to represent a forest. 


Over the weeks that followed, Linda slowly got the house in order and it began to feel more and more like home.


One day she picked Jason up from school, gave him a hug and buckled him into his car seat.  As she slid behind the wheel, she turned to him and said, "Honey, we need to stop by the market on the way home.  We're just about out of toilet paper again."

"Okay, mommy.  Can we get some Popsicles?" 

"We'll see," Linda said absently.  "Honey, are you sure you're not using too much toilet tissue?  You know that using too much will stop up the drains, right?"

Solemnly, he nodded.  "I only use this much," he said, measuring with his hands.  "Just like you told me."

"Okay, baby, that's good.  It just seems that your bathroom runs out really often." 

She turned back around and started the car.

A short time later they pulled into the driveway.  Jason unbuckled his seat belt, was out of the car and in the house before Linda could gather her purse.  Retrieving the bags from the trunk, she followed him.

"Babs?" she called as she entered the house.

"In here," the woman's voice came from the living room where she was sitting on the floor with Shelby and her blocks.

"Mommy, mommy, can I have a Popsicle?"  Jason queried, dancing around her.

"Not now, honey.  We'll have to wait until after lunch. You go change into your play clothes, okay?"  Linda dropped her purse and bags on the couch, scooped up Shelby, gave her a hug.  "How's my little girl? Were you a good girl today?"  She began tickling her as Babs scrambled up off the floor.

"Good as gold, as usual," Babs said.  "She's a real treasure."

After the kids were fed and put down for their naps, Linda continued organizing the household.

That evening, Linda was getting dinner when Kevin came home from work.  He came into the kitchen, grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and perched on a stool at the counter.

After several minutes of discussing the facets of their individual days, Linda fell silent.  For a long moment she stood staring into the pan of sauce on the stove, as she stirred it.  Suddenly, she glanced up at her husband.

"You know, I think this family alone is destroying several acres of forestland every day."

Kevin studied her face, a puzzled frown wrinkling his forehead.  "What?  What are you talking about?"

"I was just thinking about all of the paper products we seem to go through - toilet paper, tissues, paper towels - you name it.  It seems like I'm having to buy more every day."

"Are you saying that you think we're being wasteful?"

"I don't know what to think.  It just seems like we're always running out of one thing or another."

"Well, I've been doing a lot of work in the garage lately.  I may be guilty of using a lot of paper towels.  I'll have to watch it."


A few days later, while the children napped, Linda made the rounds of her plants; watering them and pinching off the dead or dying leaves.  Going through those in the living room, she found most of them to be very green and healthy-looking, with few leaves to be removed.  These look really great.  They really must like it here.

However, the kitchen window was another story.  Those plants contained several yellowing leaves.  If this keeps up, I'll have to find someplace else to put them.


About a week later, Linda found Shelby standing beside the living room plant table, her abandoned toys scattered over the floor.  As she watched, the toddler plucked off a dead leaf and lifted it toward her open mouth.

"No, Shelby!  No!" She rushed over to take the leaf from the little girl's hand.  "You mustn't eat that.  It could make you sick."

When Kevin came home, he stopped in the kitchen doorway and beckoned Linda.  "You should see this," he said softly.  Underneath the dining room table sat Shelby, shredding a crumpled paper towel and guiding the pieces into her mouth.  "I think we may have solved your disappearing paper products problem," he whispered.

"Oh, my God," Linda gasped.  "I'll have to call the doctor!"  She whirled to confront Kevin.  "I told you, you should have never have started calling her 'Termite'!"


(Words: 995)