Here Today, Gone Tomorrow TJ Wood

By Clint Holtsoi ‘ You Left Your Memory, But You Took The Sky’ Oil paint on a 36” x 48” canvas. 2020

Here Today, Gone Tomorrow

By TJ Wood

The store was almost closed - it was 11:50 P.M. and Mary was in the back reviewing the day's receipts while George was up front counting the till of the drawer. "Hey, hon," George called out, looking at his watch, "what was that about Lauren's friend stopping by tonight?" There was nothing, and so again: "Mary, my dear? Can you hear me?" He stood a moment, removed his silver-bridged spectacles, and laid them onto the counter next to the plastic container filled with five cent chewing gum. "Huh?" Mary said, her voice muted slightly by the closed door. "I'm sorry George, hon, I didn't quite hear you the first time." She came to the door and opened it and stood with a folder containing the day's receipts. "Lauren's friend - Julia?

“Yes, said she'd be by to ask if that trip to Portland with Lauren would be okay. Isn't it a little too late for her to stop by?” George smiled. "Is that what was spoken about when I was on the phone this morning? I mean, I told Lauren it was completely fine with me as long as you are okay with it, dear?" He said, half turned. "George," she said, "I'm fine with it. I trust our daughter and Julia has been her closest friend since grade school. Of course, I'm happy with it."

This caught George's attention. "I'm sorry for these last few weeks but I've been on the edge and I know my demeanor has changed," "There's no need, George. I see and I know. I give you space and allow for your nature to guide you. You are an honest man and I know you will find a way and I will always be with you."

George glanced down, his heart beating, and his hands older and calloused with repetition and time, put his silverspectacles back on. "What would I do without you, Mary? We've been through four decades and raised five wonderful kids and with our youngest eager to start her life. I just wouldn't know what to do without any of you." "

“Georgie," she said and placed the folder down and walked over, "We love you. Always have, always will. Chin up, tiger." And kissed him. The beauty was there between them, the love; they remained despite an ever-changing world. "What a day it's been. I'm almost done up here." He said.

She held his hand, "I'm all done back there. I just need to lock the safe." "A few more minutes and we'll be on our way. We'll tell Lauren in the morning over breakfast.” "That'd be fine, hon." She said and went back to the office and left the door open.

George stood and resumed his counting when the driveway bell rang. He glanced up and saw an ivory and blood-red 1958 Plymouth Fury pull into the gas port. It's chrome headlamps and tubed grille glistened beneath the hollowed lamps of the gas station as the car door opened and a young man wearing a dark and worn bomber’s jacket got out. George unable to do anything, heard the doorbell of the gas station ring. "Hello, young man," said George. "What can we do for you?"

The young man smiled, his greasy hair pulled back, "Not much." And pulled out a gun. "Money. Now!"

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“Funding provided through the New Mexico Coalition of Sexual Assault Programs, Inc. through Grant Number 2018‐KF‐AX‐0036 awarded by the NMCVRC and the Office on Violence Against Women, U.S. Department of Justice. The opinions, findings, conclusions and recommendations expressed in the publication/program/exhibition are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the views of NMCSAP, NMCVRC or the Department of Justice, Office on Violence Against Women.”