Many thanks to Rochelle for Friday Fictioneers and to David Stewart for such a beautiful picture.
The Lotus Flower
Generations of southern grace died when mother laid eyes on Binh clinging to Tim’s arm. Her lips wobbled trying to form a smile. Her hand, stopping mid-arc toward a handshake, fell to her side. Her fingers worried her pearls like a rosary. When her eyes moved to Tim’s, betrayal forming, I stepped forward.
“Binh! Hello,” I said. “Tim never stops talking about you.”
Binh’s eyes sparkled. A tear formed in the corner. Her smile, sad. “Thank you.”
I glanced toward mother but saw only the kitchen door swinging.
Tim kissed Binh’s knuckles.
We all expected different.
We all knew better.
end
I’m going to be positive and say that over time Tim’s mum learned a valuable lesson and became tolerant and accepting.
Thank you, Iain. I hope to be positive too, but you don’t live in the country I do, and I don’t see prejudice dying down here any time soon unless something huge happens.
Wonderful last couplet
Many thanks, Neil.
We both went with prejudice this week. The breakdown is poetic. You’re good at that.
💖 Thank you. 💖 Yes, when I read yours I thought, oh, we’ve both gone there. But we are here in this country where prejudice is right up front. I’d feel we were almost derelict not to go there, or not. There’s certainly no shame in trying to be bright in hard times. Let’s hope that next year at this time these thoughts are distant. 🙏
Beautifully written and a joy to read.
💖 Many thanks.
This is not the first lovely meeting… I hope that Tim’s mother will be able to look beyond her own prejudices..
Thanks, Bjorn. I hope she does too, although I’m not sure.
It’s what is not said that tells the story. Your story tells much without words.
Thank you so much! 🙂
You are welcome, Sascha.
How sad for all parties concerned.
Let us hope the mother wakes up.
What a great story, Sascha, just in the emotions you expressed so vividly. Hopefully the mother will come around, but prejudices do run deep.
-David