Semi-Daily Scribbles

Rebecca knew the word. The word was resolve. She didn't have any. Rebecca let another day pass in the house, fraught with drafts, and leaks, and plumbing that didn't work. A house falling apart, held together by promises. She finished packing a bag to spend the night in her car. Rebecca could always find a few restful hours and a couple of hungry ducks down at the county park. It was better than having to endure the house in the dark, with its constant berating and belittling. If only she had the resolve to evict the descendants who laid claim to her name, looking down at her from their tarnished gilt frames. Rebecca's blood was just as noble, although no one in the family ever lived up to his word.