This piece is not a poem, but more of a short monologue that began as an improv exercise last night. I decided the few lines I scribbled on a napkin after they popped out of my mouth weren’t enough, and Shannon had more to say. So this morning I opened my notebook and let her say her piece.

I believe I was eight, maybe nine years old. Mama was frying bacon in our little kitchen in the pink house. It’s not pink anymore, but it doesn’t matter, really, what color it is, it will always be The Pink House to me.

I took a bowl out of the dishwasher and a packet of instant oatmeal from the pantry, and sat down at the table to wait for the tea kettle to boil. My favorite kind was apple and cinnamon, but sometimes I had peaches and cream, it just wasn’t as good.

Mama brought me a plate with two pieces of bacon, and poured boiling water in my bowl.. She started to walk back to the stove, but stopped and turned around to look at me and said “Shannon, your daddy’s gone. He’s gone, and he’s never coming back.” Then she turned around and took a drag on her cigarette and put more bacon in the pan.

I stirred my oatmeal, and thought about that for a minute, and I said – I’ll never forget this, because it seemed like something they’d say on t.v. – I said “Well mama, I can’t remember what he looks like anyhow.”

I guess that was the start of our days as single ladies, mama and me.

Copyright 2019 – Laurie Marshall

This monologue is being posted as part of the #100dayproject. Find out more here.