By Lee DeAmali
It comes and goes like exhaled cigarette smoke tinged with cinnamon discs and creamed coffee, reminding me of my mother staring out from her wheelchair beyond the nubby curtains caked in dust, offering raspy vignettes served with such infrequency I hung onto every tainted word.
Always wear underwear to bed in case of a fire. Remember Lucy from Russo Street, hanging out her third-floor window, waiting for the fireman’s ladder as the building burned, the last to be rescued while everyone below got a good look at her snatch.
Such was the wisdom she chose to share between long, silent stretches.
Haha, you capture the surprising bite of a mother’s advice very well
ah, wonderful and vivid prose — a solid creation of characters and their relationship. good advice, too.
I hear the mother’s voice. Her words do such a great job creating character.
Such outstanding imagery: …nubby curtains caked in dust…raspy vignettes…every tainted word… Loved it!
That is extremely accomplished. Vast picture with a few choice specifics, no reliance on shock or twist, just precise wording.
Wonderful, it started of wordy, but you tightened it up beautifully. I love how you were able to layer so many stories within your single story.
JA – Thanks! Truly enjoyed your Death in July…somehow that doesn’t sound quite right
Christina – Thanks for the haha! Nice to know someone smiled.
Jennifer – Good to know the character was sufficiently developed. Appreciated.
Bobby – Comments like yours make me do a happy dance. 🙂
Vesna – Accomplished and precise – I’ll take it! Thank you.
Gabrielle – Glad you thought it worked in the end. Beginning could have been tighter in retrospect, but this came out as a Sunday morning stream of consciousness that clocked in close to 101 words & I more or less went with it, dreamy feel and all.
Truly grateful this found a home and to everyone who took the time to comment