Apocalypse Drift by Joe Nobody

scrambled egg breakfasts and Popsicle stick history projects. She rose slowly and deliberately, taking in the room and its contents as never before. She peered into the hall just off the kitchen at the ever-growing montage of school portraits, vacation snapshots, and birthday pictures she had gathered over the years. She eyed the assortment carefully, the emotion in her swelling as she remembered the whens and wheres. Wyatt joined her, draping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her close.
    After gazing at the family pictorial history for a bit, the couple turned back to the kitchen when something caught Wyatt’s eye. He planted his feet as he pointed out the laundry room door. Over the years, they had marked David’s physical development on the frame. Varied colors of inked notches with correlating dates indicated the progress of their son’s increasing height. The opposite frame documented Sage’s growth. “That’s the kind of thing that is priceless,” he said, “That’s what we’ll miss the most.”
    Morgan waved him off, “I’m not so sure Wyatt. I pass through that doorway every day, and to be honest, I don’t think I’ve noticed it for years. If you hadn’t pointed it out, I probably wouldn’t have thought about it.”
    Wyatt wasn’t so sure. He’d watched Morgan change since the trouble began. Now, more than ever, she seemed determined to protect him from her frustrations. There had been a variety of examples to confirm his hypothesis. Her monthly appointment at the hair salon had been replaced by a bottle of hair color purchased at the drug store, and Sage was her new stylist. The first few attempts hadn’t produced the desired effect, resulting in Morgan strolling out of the bathroom with slightly moist eyes and sporting a hat. Wyatt had expected a far worse reaction than what his wife presented. He often wondered if she hid the pain from him intentionally. Regular manicures and gym workouts were sacrificed as well. 
    Still, she had soldiered on, never complaining about the losses she was experiencing. Occasionally, Morgan would vent about the way things were impacting the children. When Sage graduated from high school, the celebration had been a much less elaborate affair than her brother’s only a few years before. Sage had never complained as far as Wyatt knew, but her mother claimed to know it bothered the girl. With promises like, “We’ll make it up to you one of these days, baby,” the hurt had slowly healed.
    Promises of better days ahead seemed to keep everyone’s spirits buoyant at first. But then th e days didn’t really get better; in fact, they got worse. The family’s positive attitude showed signs of weakening as they faced the holidays. By Thanksgiving, blessings seemed to be in short supply, and the collective outlook showed flu-like symptoms – tired and achy. By Christmas, the malaise had progressed to pneumonia, and by New Year’s Eve, hopefulness was on full-blown life support. Everyone had promised each other the next year would be better and different, but the optimism seemed shallow and forced.
    Wyatt cleared his head of the past and refocused on the present. Morgan had left him pensively reflecting next to the height chart, while she returned to the kitchen for a refill. When he joined her, she fairly beamed at him as she announced, “I think there’s a silver lining in all this, and even if you don’t agree with me, please keep it to yourself. I want to believe…no, I have to believe that we will be better people if this money thing forces us to shed some of our materialistic ways. Now, even if you don’t think the same thing…Wyatt please, pretty please, let me believe that. It’s the only way I’m going to pull through this change without being bitter.”
    Wyatt nodded his understanding. “I agree 100%. If we are going to do this, we have to look at it like a positive step forward. We’re doing it for a simpler life…we’re leading the way, not