Every morning, we’d pick blueberries across the bayou ’cause that’s where Momma said they was sweetest. Me an’ my brother Ben, who didn’t yet come up to my shoulders that summer.
We didn’t go to school, ‘cause daddy said school wasn’t for the workin’ kind. Which I guess we were. Ben was too young for school anyway.
Back then, I didn’t know what I know now.
That life isn’t full of swampy meadows, sweet blue fruit that’ll stain your teeth, and butterfly kisses.
It couldn’t be crushed, served piping hot in Momma’s pie.
The bayou was my friend.
Until it wasn’t.
Amanda, a perfect piece. So few words, so much meaning………..
This is very good . Brad Mead
Loved it. Stark, but honest. Great job! Keep it up.