Mom reached into the old green tackle box. Under the top tray. She took out something small and held it out to Brittany.
A new bobber. Red and white. With a strip of white tape wrapped around it.
On the tape, in Mom’s handwriting, in blue ink, it said:
EARLA.
Brittany looked at it for a long time. Then she clipped it on the end of the line of her cane pole. Next
to her own.
“For someday,” Mom said.Track Pregnancy
The sun went down over Vern’s pasture. The frogs started up in the cattails. Out on the dark water,
four red and white bobbers sat perfectly still.
Nobody caught anything that night.
It didn’t matter. That was never the part that counted.
