This was written for Carrot Ranch where we were asked to write about nourish. Which led me to Thanksgiving, where you know you will be nourished for food, but emotionally?
And Then Alone
I didn’t want to come home for Thanksgiving, navigate the endless sessions of why aren’t you like Nathan or Rachel? Why are you working an administrative job, pretending to be a writer? Why aren’t you going to graduate school? Becoming a lawyer, a doctor? It’s in our genes. Why are you our disgrace?
My grandmother survived Auschwitz. You’d think I could survive Thanksgiving.
I breathe a hundred breaths into the ending of this novel. My grandmother read every word, blessed them, before she passed. Now, I am alone.
My homemade pumpkin pie will nourish. Will my novel ever appease?
end
Sascha Darlington
Boom! You hit all the highs and lows in this flash, Sascha. I especially loved this: “My grandmother survived Auschwitz. You’d think I could survive Thanksgiving.” I also loved the blessing that followed and the hope of pumpkin pie appeasement. It’s. so hard for writers to justify the longevity of our work.
Thanks, Charli. I very much appreciate your comment. I just saw a typo, which drops me to 98 words. Now to find a good one. ha 🙂
Well… perhaps it’s the family gatherings that nourish the novel, give fodder to the writer.
Good stuff here, from those annoying questions to the loss of grandma and the angst of struggling through dinner alone without her.
Dang. What is it with you writers and your novels?
Hmm. D., where do I go with that statement considering that you, too, are a writer? Does that mean you don’t have novel on the backburner (where it would be burnt by now, of course)? Yep. I think family (dys)functions are great fodder. Thanks for reading! 🙂
Oh, I hear ya!
Thank you, Liz! 🙂