Fuzzy Slippers
Click below to hear me read this poem.
I button the top button of my robe
It’s a quilted satin floral print
And reminds me of melted sherbet
I feel grown up in it like the ladies on tv
I listen at the stairwell for the baby sitter
There is only the drone of the television
I imagine her curled up on the couch
She's nice, I hope she doesn't get in trouble
The French door near my bedroom opens onto the balcony
Quietly I pad my way down the back stairs
The light from the living room’s picture windows fill the lawn
I am careful to travel wide, staying in the the dark
The world tonight is black and white
Everywhere long shadows
But I’m not scared
My heart is pounding with excitement
I climb the pasture fence in my pink fluffy slippers
and wade through hip high grass till I reach the road
I love my slippers and don’t yet hate the site of pink
I still believe the fairytales
The road is lit by the full moon
And the lights of the college shine ahead
A quarter mile walk will get me past those
She's gonna be mad, I know
She hasn't hit me for two days
For her that's getting along
But they’re gone
And she woulda beat me tomorrow anyway
I duck into the shallow next to the road
When cars pass by
I haven’t really thought where I'm going
Just away
To the next town, I guess
Another car
I curl up in a ball beside the road
Imitating a rock
A pink and orange quilted satin rock
This one slows crunching the gravel behind me
He talks, she talks, I say nothing
He tries to stand me up, but I am a rock
Eventually I'm put in their car
In her lap still in a ball, we drive
Once in their house
They fuss over me like a celebrity
They are kind and gentle
Years later I realize I was lucky
More questions, no answers
Back in the car
This time I sit like a person
Till we get to the Sheriff's office
She won't talk we've tried everything
Would you like some hot chocolate sweetie?
We can even get marshmallows
Name? phone number? First grade?
I sing like a bird
Tell us about your mother
Does she get angry with you?
I know better than to answer
Silently I drink my chocolate
Daddy leads me through the living room
Mommy and the Christiansens are playing cards
They are all dress up in going out clothes
They stop and watch me with a strange excitement
Daddy is sad and looks confused
I didn't mean to hurt him
Sorry
Next time I will plan better
Comments
I read, smiled and imagined. I must have missed this one a few years ago. Always loved and love reading your works. :)
- AUTHOR
Thanks for reading Finn. I used to asked myself how he could have missed it. But he honestly did. He was a good, sweet man.
wow....good perspective...nice imagery....a little curious about the overall tone. writing about childhood is interesting, difficult and sometimes magical. But the disturbing underlying specter of the abusive mother is a bit confused with a naive (seemingly) father. Will give it a few more reads....nice use of language
- AUTHOR
Thanks Claudia. I don't know if I was brave or just foolish.
i often thought about running away..but never did..you are brave.. another gripping write
- AUTHOR
And see just how gracefully we can deal :) Thanks Tony.
There are no guarrantees in life, we can only deal with what we're dealt. I applaude you sharing. Thanks RB.
- AUTHOR
Awwwwwe, thanks MFB. I decided my childhood begins now. I am behaving very immaturely these days.
I am sending huge hugs back over the years to that flowered and fuzzy rock.
Would that we were not as fate decreed,
bound to a parent who is apparently abusive. I weep for the childhood you never knew hidden behind those dark bruises that painted your tear stained cheeks.~~~~MFB III
- AUTHOR
Thanks again for reading.
I hope the higher you has patience for those of us, although similarly messed with in our youth, find a nice place in simple perspectives.
Thanks again for a moving piece..
Well said...
- AUTHOR
Thanks bbnix, but I don't live in the past. I have come to terms with all of it. It was planned and orchestrated by the higher me for the evolvement of me so I could write some soulful poetry. It's all good. All parties have been lovingly exonerated.
Now, Randy, when you think of those difficult times, project that we here who care about you are all there with you too, pink slippers and all.
Close you eyes. See us all there, ten silly people with ten pairs of joy, all set for tough trial, hell bent with such ploy...
Remember your family here, as I ought to do, whenever your lost friend, and know not what to do...
Much love,
Will
- AUTHOR
Thank you Micky! Some moments from our childhoods get imprinted on their brains. This is one of mine.
Tremendously beautiful write. I'm glad I didn't miss this one! Magical, really. Thank you Randy!
Hubpages works in mysterious ways.
- AUTHOR
Nice to meet you Keith. My birth mother was mentally.... unstable. It never dawned on me until this moment that if she would have lived past my 3rd birthday things could have actually been worse. Thank you for sharing, yikes. An aha moment for me.
Hi Randy, a very evocative poem depicting how fragile live can be when someone who should be trusted, betrays you. I had a chaotic upbringing as my mother retreated into mental depression even before i was born. She was still a loving mother, just not a functioning one. My dad who turns ninety this year gave us twice the love, but he couldn't do much whilst he was out providing for us. We all came out of it well, except for my mother who passed away in an institution ages 62. Your poem is written well and written from the heart, albeit a sad one. Cheers from Melbourne.
- AUTHOR
Hi Doug! I appreciate your insight. I have flashbacks of pivotal moments from my childhood and write in character when I do. Its like I'm that little six year old again. Writing is how I process emotions both the new and randy ones and the very old and sad ones.
I don't always get the good storytelling thing right, but I like to think I recognize it when I see it. With the line about the babysitter "she's nice, I hope she doesn't get in trouble," I was fully aware of your caliber as a storyteller. We learn that the narrator is young, innocent, and about to embark on a private journey, all without those things being said.
The rest of the poem is just as intriguing and wrenching as everyone else here pointed out. Very well done.
- AUTHOR
Thanks Poetvix, I can't ask for any more than that. Love and Light to you.
Hi ghomefitness! I grew up pretty quick... its now that I feel like a kid.
That was amazing writing, I felt the hurt as if I was there. You showed forward thinking at a very young age.
This reached in and grabbed my heart. It is such a powerful piece showing the awe of childhood mixed with the pain. It is beautifully written. God Bless.
- AUTHOR
Thanks Eiddwen for the nice comment. I don't think our childhoods need define us. They are experiences to learn great lessons from, forgiveness for example.
Hi Randy Behaviour,
Yes a great read and one sadly that I could also relate to.
As you say it gives us plenty to write about, it sure does.
Thank you for sharing this well expressed poem.
Great work.
Take care,
Eiddwen.
- AUTHOR
Thanks Tom. Can't ask for anything more than chills :)
Hey Saddlerider! So many of us had this kind of childhood. Maybe so we'll have something to write about as adults? I was moving past fear at this point because I was taking matter into my own hands. Didn't work out the way I planned however. Still, better to be planning an escape than waiting and wondering when the next beating will come. Thanks for sharing your memories as well.
This piece brought back memories of when I was 10 yrs old. I planned on running away from the hurt and abuse I witnessed with my young eyes, peeking through my bedroom door at my mother being beaten and the stench of cigarettes and alcohol in the air.
I slipped out the back door and slowly slid into the back lane way. I walked to the corner of the next street and put out my finger for a ride, I was picked up but it was by the police, who after asking my name and address, I found myself right back where I started from.
A spanking came my way with a belt and I was thrown back into my room. I wasn't wearing pink slippers, however the cops wouldn't have cared.
Thank you for sharing a part of your childhood or someones, I felt the fear.
Gave me a chill the second read, too. Nice.
- AUTHOR
Just waiting in the wings Charlie. It's a new year looking forward to Prosperity, Passion and Parties!
Gosh. Am speechless. I thought you were gone from HP.
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