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Since anolinde couldn't wait for me to hand in my vignettes and then make them better, I'm posting the second set of the vignettes now. The first two can be found here.
On the mantle. On the wall. They’re everywhere. Color, black and white. Old, new.
Number 1: age 25. Wedding Day. Long white dress. Long black hair. Big smile. When was it taken? 17 years ago.
Number 2: age 26. Hospital. Baby me in her arms. Big smile. When was it taken? 16 years ago.
Number 3: age 27. Our birthday. Blowing out candles. Eyes smiling. When was it taken? 15 years ago.
Number 4: age 29. Holding a college degree. Masters. To be a lawyer. When was it taken? 13 years ago.
Number 5: age 30. Diving. Tall, slender, beautiful, just like always. When was it taken? 12 years ago.
Number 6: age 32. First day of school. Smaller smile. Holding my lunch bag. When was it taken? 10 years ago.
Number 7: age 34. Holding the new puppy. No smile. Rainy day. When was it taken? 8 years ago.
Number 8: age 36. In hospital bed. No smile. Sickly legs, arms. Why’d you waste away? When was it taken? 6 years ago.
Number 9: age 39. Casket. Red flowers on black wood. Sad faces. When was it taken? 3 years ago.
Number 10: age 42. A new mother in pink. Two perfect children. Where am I? In the dark corner. When was it taken? Two months ago.
It took my mother 14 years to die. How long will it take me?
And as they say, “Take a photograph. It lasts longer.”
My dad was a hero. A Superman missing his tights and cape. He was the savior of little children all over the city. I loved him.
He’d take me into empty parking lots and teach me how to ride a bike, throw a Frisbee, do a cartwheel.
As we were walking down the dirt path called life, Fate was lurking in the shadows. And once we got to age 13, BAM. Mom died, dad went into withdrawal. I was left alone. To fend for myself, per say.
That wasn’t the worst part. He started dating. Found a new Mom, and new kids. Blonde, of course. Straight A students, athletic. Perfect. Where am I in this new family? Where do I fit in?
Over there, in the corner, gathering cobwebs and standing so still you can’t even see me.
Now my dad only talks to me when he calls me in for dinner. Forget about cartwheels. I ask him for homework help and he looks at me like I’ve got three heads. I’m not his daughter anymore. I’m a stranger.
Maybe it’s because I look like Mom and not like him. Maybe it’s because I look Asian. He can’t stand to look at me because I remind him too much of her. I can’t wait to get out of here. Away from here.
They're depressing, I know. It's great, ain't it?
On the mantle. On the wall. They’re everywhere. Color, black and white. Old, new.
Number 1: age 25. Wedding Day. Long white dress. Long black hair. Big smile. When was it taken? 17 years ago.
Number 2: age 26. Hospital. Baby me in her arms. Big smile. When was it taken? 16 years ago.
Number 3: age 27. Our birthday. Blowing out candles. Eyes smiling. When was it taken? 15 years ago.
Number 4: age 29. Holding a college degree. Masters. To be a lawyer. When was it taken? 13 years ago.
Number 5: age 30. Diving. Tall, slender, beautiful, just like always. When was it taken? 12 years ago.
Number 6: age 32. First day of school. Smaller smile. Holding my lunch bag. When was it taken? 10 years ago.
Number 7: age 34. Holding the new puppy. No smile. Rainy day. When was it taken? 8 years ago.
Number 8: age 36. In hospital bed. No smile. Sickly legs, arms. Why’d you waste away? When was it taken? 6 years ago.
Number 9: age 39. Casket. Red flowers on black wood. Sad faces. When was it taken? 3 years ago.
Number 10: age 42. A new mother in pink. Two perfect children. Where am I? In the dark corner. When was it taken? Two months ago.
It took my mother 14 years to die. How long will it take me?
And as they say, “Take a photograph. It lasts longer.”
My dad was a hero. A Superman missing his tights and cape. He was the savior of little children all over the city. I loved him.
He’d take me into empty parking lots and teach me how to ride a bike, throw a Frisbee, do a cartwheel.
As we were walking down the dirt path called life, Fate was lurking in the shadows. And once we got to age 13, BAM. Mom died, dad went into withdrawal. I was left alone. To fend for myself, per say.
That wasn’t the worst part. He started dating. Found a new Mom, and new kids. Blonde, of course. Straight A students, athletic. Perfect. Where am I in this new family? Where do I fit in?
Over there, in the corner, gathering cobwebs and standing so still you can’t even see me.
Now my dad only talks to me when he calls me in for dinner. Forget about cartwheels. I ask him for homework help and he looks at me like I’ve got three heads. I’m not his daughter anymore. I’m a stranger.
Maybe it’s because I look like Mom and not like him. Maybe it’s because I look Asian. He can’t stand to look at me because I remind him too much of her. I can’t wait to get out of here. Away from here.
They're depressing, I know. It's great, ain't it?