“Before I was born I remember hearing music, and laughter, and I would go swooshing as my mother went spinning. Then after I was born I got to see this place called the living room. It was called the living room because that’s where they did the living, but it made me wonder why the other rooms weren’t called the living bathroom or the living kitchen or the living toy store. The living room was where they did most of their dancing and since I was living now too, I got to be in it. I was alive but I wasn’t warm in the water anymore, I was only on the blanket watching. I watched as my father picked up my mother, spinning her around as they laughed and kissed. It made me miss the swooshing and the warm water of her womb, but I smiled anyway because they were happy.”
Category Archives: Flash Fiction
I had a dream I was composing an epic poem under a midnight blue sky covered in a blanket of bright stars. There were reams of paper billowing and the work went on for hours until suddenly there was you. You brought me hot cocoa and clementines and sang me Christmas songs slightly off key. Then the snow began to fall so we went inside and sat by the fireplace reminiscing and laughing until we both fell asleep. When morning came you were gone, but I had a poem. I remember feeling loss coupled with acceptance; it was a strange kind of loveliness. I knew you loved me, just as I loved you, but then I wept anyway.