Archive for February, 2014

Rubies

February 14, 2014

Rubies

He loved me. I knew that my father loved me. When I was 4 years old, he bought me an 18 carat gold and ruby watch. The rubies were beautiful and shiny. “It’s for later, for when you grow up,” he told me. My father had had a hard life; now things were good and prosperous for him. The watch must have symbolized being able to do something for me while he could. No one ever knew when things would turn the other way.Many years later, I lost that watch. Someone took it from me. My love for my father is in my heart, unchanged.  

 

 

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Unsettled

February 13, 2014

The Unsettled Feeling

Nowhere—she called it that. This is nowhere. It’s the feeling of not belonging, not being anywhere, not for long, not really. She carries it—it’s in her face, her clothes; her eyes. It is a curse.

 

America

February 10, 2014

America

He was crazy about it. The country had long fascinated him. Everything about it—the music, movies, the books—held a special appeal for him. When The Beatles went on The Ed Sullivan Show in February of 1964, he applauded as the girls in the audience screamed and squealed. His face lit up like a little boy’s. America. That sort of thing happened to you when you went toAmerica. You got fame and women. America was the promise of a new home, a new beginning.

 

What?

February 8, 2014

What?

It was there, your chocolate brown body on the hard and cold pavement. Someone must have petted you, caressed you once, yesterday or the day before. I bent down to touch you. Stiff—you couldn’t feel anymore. Was that how it had happened? Had you climbed over a wall to play and instead death met up with you? I’ll never know. I petted you. Goodbye little animal.