family

Empty Nest

lillian14 Comments

Coffee cup in hand, she focused on the shapes coming into focus through the morning mist. James said they’d be a family science project. Bat houses. She’d agreed, only if they were a good distance from the house…

A good distance from the house…in-state college would have been nice. She smiled softly, thinking about the “Roots and Wings” adage on the plaque above her bureau. He sure spread his wings…

The telephone startled her. Coffee sloshed as she grabbed the phone. “Hello?”

“Oh, sorry mom. Did I wake you? It’s noon here. Just wanted to touch base. I miss you.”

kitchen-window

Word Count: 100.
Photo credit: Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.
Flash Fiction written for Rochelle Wisoff-Fields Friday Fictioneers.
Learn more about bat houses!

Loretta

lillian3 Comments

Happy in her new digs,
plywood and metal scraps,
original resident dead.
A step up from cardboard,
if she could eradicate the smell.

Comic strips, the colored ones,
wallpaper of choice.
Condoms stored in knock-off bag,
Pick your flavor, pick your place.
But no, not here. Not in my space.

Golden locket round her neck
broken knotted chain.
Daddy’s picture kept within,
missing god knows where
always hangng near.

Mama’s image burned one day.
Albatross memories
seared in heart.
Flailing arms and slurred tongue,
bottle thrown. Crashed into her soul.

YOU. GET. OUT.

And so she did,
grabbed the locket and ran.
Happy sweet sixteen.
Birthday promise made that day
always kept, these many years.

Sobriety.
Eyes tired, never shut.
She saw their faces, every john.
Every thrust she felt,
every punch and hunger pain.

But slurring, oblivious sot?
She would NEVER be her.

a-girl-eerily-exhausted-1537602

Photo credit: Linda Lacerna. Somehow, in this holiday season, my heart is drawn to those who have not – the Lorettas of this world.

Mama’s Refrain

lillian5 Comments

Hatless, wind ruffled hair
winter snow flake dandruff
red ears and mustache icicles.
Iowa snow gnome I am
when I see my breath.
Ninety percent of your body heat
escapes from your head.
Well mom, that’s why I’m so cool!

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Photo: corner of Boston’s Court and Tremont Streets several winters ago. Story behind the giant tea kettle: manufactured in 1873 by Hicks & Badger; a “sign” outside the old Oriental Tea Kettle shop. Signs were common in early Boston to identify shops for those who could not read. On January 1, 1875 a contest was held to guess its capacity and Boston’s Sealer of Weights & Measures officially measured it.  10,000 spectators stood by as 8 boys and 1 tall man concealed themselves inside the kettle. The court was officially measured to hold 227 gallons, 2 quarts, 1 pint, and 3 gills. An attached mechanism produced steam. To this day, in the cold winter months, steam is seen coming out of the kettle. Starbucks made a wise decision to place their store here!
Poetry prompt: final assignment in Fall 2015 Poetry Apprenticeship with Holly Wren Spaulding:  write an “advice” poem — perhaps from shoulds and should nots of your early days!

 

Florence Frazier – revised and revisited on the occasion of Veterans’ Day

lillian2 Comments

Red and white stripes unfurled
Old Glory flaps in the wind,
her grommets clank
straining against steel pole.

You loved the flag, its simple beauty.
You lived the flag, patriotism in your soul.
The greatest generation, and you a woman,
a Naval Commander among them all.

People should know your name.
Short in stature, you stood tall
turned boys back into men
healed so many, traveled so far.

Directed nurses, ran the floor,
turned painful rehab into hope.
War time compassion
in the midst of blood and missing limbs.

So many times we sat at your table
ate lemon meringue pie
and rolled the Yahtze dice,
treasured photo above our heads.

You and Admiral Nimitz, side by side.
One hero, honored, known by many.
The other, slipped through time
a silver haired, kind old woman.

Behind one door in a hall of many,
skill and will still intact
you urged your aging friends
Use it or lose it! You’re not dead yet.

You gave again, feet matched spirit
oxford shoes on dirt floors
eighty years old, cross and caring
African clinic, ignored by many.

You can do it, lean on me.
One foot at a time. Move!
And you did
and they did too.

The wind stops, clanking hushed.
Flag quiet. I stand still, missing you.
Commander Frazier, our Aunt Flo.
I remember that faded photo,
just one moment in your glory days.

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Photo:  U.S. Naval Commander Florence M. Frazier, 1915–2010. On the occasion of her 90th birthday, touring a ship in Charlestown Navy Yard wearing military cap. She was saluted by many that day.
Admiral Chester W. Nimitz was Commander in Chief of the U.S. Naval Fleet in World War II.

Aunt Flo

lillian10 Comments

Old Glory flaps in the breeze
red and white stripes unfurled,
grommets clank against steel pole
as I walk by in a rush.

You loved the beauty of our flag.
You actually lived the flag.
The greatest generation, and you a woman,
a Naval Commander among them all.

Young girls should know your name.
Short in stature, you stood tall
saluted boys and turned them back into men
healed so many, traveled so far.

So many times we sat at your table
ate lemon meringue pie
and rolled the Yahtze dice
the infamous photo above our heads.

You and Admiral Nimitz, side by side.
One honored hero, known by many.
The other, slipped through time
a silver haired, kind old woman.

The wind stops, the clanking too
and I stand still remembering you
in that faded black and white photo
of your glory days.

IMG_2892

Florence M. Frazier,  1915 – 2010. Former Commander in the U.S. Navy. Photo is from Aunt Flo’s visit to us in Boston, celebrating her 90th birthday. At our urging, she brought one of her military caps. We took her to the nearby Charlestown Navy Yard and visited this ship.  As she boarded and as she walked on deck, every military personnel we met saluted her.  It was an absolutely magical day!
Admiral Chester W. Nimitz was Commander in Chief of the U.S. Naval Fleet in World War II.