Many thanks to Rochelle for Friday Fictioneers.
Going Home
All those shootings in Norfolk. I hope you’re being safe. Mama texted.
Just over a week later I’m sitting on the rough stone fence outside the overflowing church, arms folded, my black dress absorbing sunshine, the unnatural heat of this late October day, while a chill still finds me.
Mama, Davey, Jane gone. The Montgomerys. Lucy. Old Mr. Wyatt. The Bean brothers.
A shadow falls over me. Jim and I share a glance, a silent surreal moment before a lone voice sings, “Going Home.”
A startling breeze shudders through sycamores.
I never thought I needed to tell Mama: Be safe.
end
Subtly and evocatively written. Sascha
OMG, that was a gut punch.
Dear Sascha,
This is a gut wrencher for sure. So much said in few words. Well done!
Shalom,
Rochelle
Thank you so much, Rochelle.
We exist in a world where no one is safe anymore. I love this line: “A startling breeze shudders through sycamores.”
Thanks, Lisa. I’d like to think that one day we’ll have enough citizens with enough courage to say, “no” to guns. Other countries don’t have this nonsense. I don’t know why we have it.
The fragility of life is hard to accept. Though I guess we’re getting more callused to it. Shootings used to be shocking. Now, I can’t help but sigh and think, “Again?”, which is a luxury not afforded to those directly affected.
If I didn’t know better, I would think that was James Earl Jones singing “Going Home.”
This last one hit me. Maybe because it was a small town. I hate that we accept guns as a part of our civilization….which isn’t civilized. Yeah. Paul Robeson had a unique history and a great voice.
Thank you.
Sad one.
Hope our world becomes safe for all and we don’t lose loved ones.
It seems a shame that we ever have to worry.