There are some memories that rear up once in a while and won’t leave you alone. So, a little flash fiction to assuage the itch.
A Kid’s Museum Day
Languid footsteps carry the boy forward
Crop dust from bib overalls mix with floor traffic
Eyes dart from dead ideas to wonders unrecognized
Mother’s hand helps lift her son’s forty pounds onward
Ascending the marble steps to the second floor
Ever larger exhibition halls
Housing monstrous creatures
Beside glass cases to overwhelm
With hairy two-legged evolution
Peaking from behind mock stones
Atop pedestals supporting
Busts of naked emotions
As yet not encountered
By youthful minds
Drive his hands into pockets
Where more familiar comfort
Steelies and taws warm his fingers
Sepia daylight spills across a frontier porch
Farmer and wife sit together on porch swing
“Like the picture of grandpa and grandma in you scrapbook, mama”
“They’re happy, mama.”
Mother’s eyes glisten
“Why you crying, mama?”
“Oh… just history, sweetheart. Just history.”
He nods and smiles
“Yeah, old is sad. Is it time to go yet?”
Reader Reviews for
"A KId's Museum Day"
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|Reviewed by Ronald Hull
|Very touching. Touched me.
One time I went to see my ex-wife. She invited me to a local museum. Before I was through being absorbed by all the dioramas and descriptions, she became anxious and demanded we leave, saying that I was still the same.
|Reviewed by Kate Clifford
|You can feel the moment in this. Good write.|
|Reviewed by Jerry Bolton
|"Steelies and taws" Yes, indeed.
Young no concept of history, instead just wants to know is it time to go. You've caught the beauty of the moment.
|Reviewed by Diana Legun (Reader)
|Flash fiction, wonderful. There is a poignancy in the last that is so adult it hurts. But then, the joy of fleeting child interpretations brushes the blush away pretty quickly. I could even smell the museum you have created in words. "..dead ideas to wonders unrecognized" ~~ Diana|