Coping

Proud of Me

Swirling swells on amber seas
Roll in rhythm
With autumn’s breeze.

I thought it a dream. I saw her standing in the middle of our wheat field. She was just as beautiful as I remembered; if it was her. The sun’s rays had my eyes in a strange way. Heavenly light held the image I wanted to see, wanted to hold, wanted to live again.

Kindred kings of kernelled gold
Seek to sever
From nature’s hold.

Maybe God just allowed her see me off to start my freshman year of high school? She didn’t wave or speak. She just stood; erect and proud-like. It felt better to make someone proud. I always wondered if she could see. Dad said she could. I believe him now. I think I know why some evenings he would come in from the fields with red eyes. I bet he saw mom too. She always loved the wheat; wrote a poem about it once. Dad read it at her funeral.

Single seeds in sunken earth
Their death declares
A new rebirth.

The school buss honked out on the road. I turned to see it wait for me. When I gazed back into the field she was gone, but my smile remained. She was proud of me. I cried.

 

For Short Story Slam Week 8

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14 thoughts on “Proud of Me

  1. ladynyo says:

    Beautiful and so moving.

    I couldn’t have said it better than the poster before me.

    It’s hard to not fall into maudlin when we write these emotional pieces.

    This flew way above that and it is Haunting.

    Lady Nyo

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