Digging in a box of old pictures, I find a wallet. Orange, yellow and green. Stripey. Something from the 70’s. It crackles as I open it. Bits of 30 year old vinyl chip off. It’s like a time capsule. A bit of paper that had some note on it. A stub from the movies. A stray piece of a flower. A picture.
A beautiful young girl. Handsome young man. Prom, 1973.
Gram looks over my shoulder. “It was the only one she didn’t destroy. She just tossed the wallet in a box.”
I look again. And see my own eyes. On my father’s face.
Thanks. First drabble in a while.
Aimee, that was a heart-kick. I understand about the accidentally coming across the ones I'd thought destroyed.
I have the picture in my wallet now. Mom doesn't know I have it.
I wrote about a similar thing, not a drabble, just a locked memory entry. After I thought I'd destroyed everything we'd had together, I found one photo I'd missed, months later, and I reacted with a screaming meltdown during the course of which I smashed everything in my apartment and screamed my throat raw.
I wrote a song about it, and this weekend, Teppy found me the coat that I mentioned in the song, that he was wearing in that last picture I found.
Discovery. Dayum.
Family Discovery
There were rumors in the family of an evil deed, long ago done. My great-great-grandmother’s own horrific discovery. How could she have missed it? How had she had children with this man? How could she bring an innocent little girl to such a monster?
When Nana found out, she grabbed up her only daughter and left. A brave thing for a woman in the early 1900’s. Never looked back, never saw her sons again. They were more his anyway. The primal-like need to protect her daughter was fierce.
Strong women.
Finding out I was from them was my discovery.
Aimee, both of those were powerful/visceral drabbles. Hope to see you here more frequently so we can get more of those!
I want to write something, but I'm still too p-ohed at the insurance company for the condo assoc. My instinct right now is to "crush-kill", not write. Maybe later.
(Sorry for all the drabbles. Discovery hit me as well)
Cigarette in one hand. Lit and smoking.
Plastic pee stick in the other. Wet and shaking.
I tell myself it’s negative. Has been a hundred times before.
Patience is not my virtue.
I watch the chemical creep up and up and up. The first line turns pink. Always does. It’s the second line that always eludes me.
I set the stick down and take a drag. Blow it out slowly.
It’s negative, I tell myself. And pick up the stick.
Two lines.
