prompt “my father taught me…” by @spokensincerely
I’m not sure if you recall the conversations with my childhood ghost. I’d spoken of his melancholia and incessant need for comfort. My father taught me comfort is best stored beneath the skin. Hidden away in the glovebox with tags from 2013. Only when my ghost passed on did he tell me— show me— comfort should be given in the open. On the balcony above swarms of bees and in the front yard of every home we eventually left. There is a disdain that festers in my veins at the thought of his emotional insecurity. I am not my father. I am not the colic ghost (anymore). It is foolish to wish for change in a time that has succumbed to strict division. My father taught me many things. How not to express anger. How not to speak with those you love. How not to love. I’m not sure if he recalls the conversations with my childhood ghost. Why are you crying? You don’t need to do that. It is best to keep these things hidden. I’m sure he does not realize this idea has taken months— years— to reverse the etching in my internal cement. I’m sure I could never hand him the carvings in my skin and receive the comfort for which my ghost still pleads. I’m sure disdain has found permanent residence in my shriveled lungs.
— ODH
About the Creator
Olivia Dodge
20 | Chicago
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.