By Minette Cummings
My body, my choice, but it wasn’t my idea to pile into the back of Dad’s old truck to drive down Main Street in the July heat with Lila picking at the scab on her ankle with bloody fingers, Shelly pulling at the scratchy dress I pulled over her head this morning, and Mom sitting high on the hot metal throne above the wheel well. Sweat drips in my eyes and wets my bangs, making it hard to see the clouds running away from us or Mom, yelling at me to wave my dollar flag and pinching me when I forget.
Pure southern gothic family. You gotta love that.
Oh gosh! This takes me back home. ??
I don’t know how I managed to add two question marks at the end of my comment above. I enjoyed the Southern charm of your story. No questions about it!
Oh gosh! This takes me back home.
“Child, you will listen!” That’s the way it was. Thank you!