Silence - (weekendfreewrite)

My mother was doing that thing she did. That thing with the rag in the sink. That's how you do the dishes, she said. You don't need no fancy supermarket sponges when any old rag will do. She didn't agree with letting the water run while scraping away the grease from the burgers.
As I stood there watching her, memories long forgotten started trickling back. The old kitchen back home. The radio on, all day long. Not that Mom really cared about the news. She just wanted to stay informed so she could have something to say while she waited in line at Sam's bakery, where all the good housewives in the neighborhood bought their bread. There were other places, of course, but any decent woman would rather wait in line for fifteen or twenty minutes each morning instead of paying 10 cents extra somewhere else.

The plane was two hours late. Bella won't be here at least until 10 p.m. She was stuck there with her mother, who was damn set on putting her up to speed with all the family gossip from the past five years. All the things she had run away from when she and Harry moved west. Aunt Millie's divorce after finding her husband in bed with a red-haired woman who lived right next to them. 'The nerve on that ... man'. Mother never swore. Didn't even say 'darn'. Dad didn't swore either, but he didn't talk much anyway. There was no swear-jar in their kitchen. The kids would be grounded for the week if caught using foul language. 'What would people say if you lot would run around using that kind of language?'

That was one of the reasons she never liked Harry. 'And the way he writes with both his left and right hand. That's unnatural. How could his parents allow that?'
She'd tried explaining that he had been forced to write properly with his right hand and that's how he had become ambidextrous. 'The man's just stubborn, if you ask me', she retorted.
It was 10.15 when the cab carrying Bella pulled in the driveway.

She didn't really miss her sister, but anything was better than listening to mother droning on in the kitchen.
'Oh, sis, I'm so sorry', she said as they hugged. 'He was so young. You're too young to be a widow. It's so not fair'. Just like mother, Bella tended to talk too much, but at least she was not afraid to show her feelings.
Forty hours after the car crash, I could finally cry.

Written for the freewrite challenge initiated by @mariannewest. If you want to know more check out her post:
https://steemit.com/freewrite/@mariannewest/weekend-freewrite-2-10-2018-part-1-the-first-sentence