Journal 1 – Nelia-Sol White

Self-Portrait

Give yourself a new name and place yourself in another city or town or country. You may or may not have the same consciousness but the facts of your life are completely different.

 

Mommy

 

She looked up at me,

Bright-eyed and just like her father.

Mommy! Mommy! She’d giggle

And I’d bend down to meet her.

 

She’d drag me all over the house,

Into the kitchen, marble and granite

Waving as we passed by.

Bedroom, bathroom, her room, my room,

The summer heat keeping the AC on blast.

 

Sometimes she’d take me into the yard,

Baxter hopping after us, tongue hanging out.

I’d pick a peach from a tree and hand it to her

Just as Daddy pulls into the driveway.

 

She’d run to him and I’d smile.

How was your day? I’d ask.

Good. Good. Yours?  He’d reply

And I’d rattle on about an advertisement

Or a sale I had made.

And he’d smile and take my hand

And we’d go inside to whatever meal he’d make for us.

 

 

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