Tag: childhood
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Memories of Amoxicillin
There was a bottle in the cupboardthe colour of weak sunshine,with a label half‑peeledand a smell you could recognisefrom three rooms away.Thick as custard,sweet in a way nothing natural ever is,it clung to the spoonlike it didn’t want to let go. We hated it, of course;the way it coated your tongue,the way it lingeredlong after…
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Path, Two Figures
The older figure walks with a measured rhythm, as if the day has agreed to match his pace. The smaller figure beside him moves with a lighter cadence, testing the texture of the moment with each step. Their hands meet.simple contact.steady.uncomplicated. The path ahead is plain, a strip of gravel that offers direction without insisting…
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The Edge of the Lawn
He held the edging shearslike the world only stayed steadyif he kept cutting.Like order was a thing he could still shapewith his hands,one clean snip at a time. I stood beside him,small, bright,orbiting his gravitywithout understanding its pull. He didn’t teach with words.He taught with posture,with the slow choreography of care,with the quiet insistencethat some…
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Ten Fingers, Ten Toes
There was a day the world telescoped to my small hands,palms cupped like two safe houses, toes tucked under like secrets.Perfection was a count: one by one, the little lights,all ten blinking OK beneath the blanket of a house that smelled like toast. I could measure myself then; fingers against cheek, toes against rug,and the…
Weather In My Ribs 