It's Still Life

AND SUDDENLY IT’S MONDAY

Pick a childhood memory, he says. “Beatles. Hello Goodbye” I don’t even hesitate. Late 60s are vivid in my head. It redeemed itself as timeless, I tell him, and it was playing as the turkey roasted in the oven, bread stuffing spilling out and on the verge of catching light. And a big bowl of pitted black olives, shiny as onyx pebbles, and they fit perfectly on the end of my fingers. I was told off for loading up on them before dinner was on the table. And my cousin’s record player turning at 33-1/3 rpms, playing “Hello Goodbye” and my head continually questioning ‘a walrus?’. Odd moments that stick to you, probably because Dad told my aunt that the turkey wasn’t cooked and that he refused to eat it. Mum burst into tears, and my uncle rose from his chair, glaring at Dad like a carnivorous plant.

And what about you, I say. And he stares off into the distance, and says,
Well, there was that time that my dad’s white van slid off the road and landed in that creek at the edge of town. And then he strolls off as if that was enough said about that.

Image: WikiArt, Man Lying on a Wall by L S Lowry (fair use)  ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting #apoemaday on Twitter