Tag: parents

Lucia

Lucia stared through the window of the beautiful restaurant.  It was 3:00pm and her interview was at 3:15 pm.

This was a big step up from her family’s restaurant in the Bronx.  The Italian Trattoria where everyone from the neighborhood would come. Her grandparents, immigrants from Sicily, had opened the restaurant in the 1930s. Lucia, her parents and three brothers were all recruited into the business. There was no escaping it.   She was the youngest but she became the face of the restaurant.  Her siblings were content to be at the back of the house in the kitchen, but she had always been pushed front and center by her parents and all the patrons knew her. They had known her since she was a child filling their water glasses on a Sunday afternoon.  It had always been this way.  It became known as Lucia’s Bistro.

Now she was a grown woman and had outgrown the family restaurant.  She was ready to spread her wings to the Upper East Side. Understanding all aspects of the restaurant business this was her chance to see how the other side lived.

She entered the restaurant and confidently introduced herself to the Maître d’

Christine Bolton – Poetry for Healing ©

(199 words)

In response to: Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner Week #32

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Eight – Poem of the Month – August 2018

Eight

When I was eight
Things were not so great
Life gave me such a kick
I grew up pretty quick
A child expecting a present
Instead was delivered unpleasant
My parents started fighting
Just the beginning of writing
That was clearly on the wall
Witnessing the nightly brawl
My father was an unhappy man
My mother trying the best she can
The combination explosive
Their relationship corrosive
Living life under cumulus clouds
Feeling like the dead covered in shrouds
I learned to fake
Even though my heart would ache
Every ounce of pain
They delivered without refrain
Hurting each other mercilessly
Only to be regretted remorsefully
Suffering the pain as a mortal
Damage to the psyche immortal
Communication with each other
Was really like no other
I was the chosen intermediary
Carrying their messages diligently
The peacekeeper of the house
Keeping family secrets quiet as a mouse
Too clever for my young age
I became the family sage
Learning the art of improvise
Trying to get parents to compromise
It was a huge burden to carry
Acting as their emissary
On the shoulders of someone so young
At eight years old this was no fun
They were unable to make decisions
There were only divisions
A merry go round of hostility
I finally had enough servility
If I had any potential
Then escape was essential
Breaking loose of that scene
When I was eighteen

Christine Bolton

Word Prompts of the day:

Potential

Clouds

Immortal

Present

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Silence

Silence

I’ve been here before
I know the drill
From this moment on
It goes downhill

The irritation begins
Nothing I say is right
In fact it is all so wrong
And you’re ready to fight

I try to reason
It is going nowhere
It’s hard to understand
As I watch you flare

I will not give up yet
Because this is so stupid
Although reasoning with you
Is always disputed

Eventually my will is broken
And silence ensues
It’s a familiar tactic
And you will always accuse

Silence really is golden
When no one speaks
The fighting stops
The paranoia peaks

Memories from childhood
Surge to the front
As the child in the middle
I bore the brunt

Parents always fighting
I was the referee
They would refuse to speak
Unless it was through me

It’s all so familiar
I’m almost a pro
I could go the distance
In this debacle of a show

There is no claim to fame
There are only losers here
Break the cycle now
Or just disappear

Christine Bolton

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